#just me and my collection of fellow freaks enjoying....

[on-leatheredwings]

thanks for 200 followers =^_^=

[currentfications]

Ocean Eyes | Part 1

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: You’re the newest member to Jam Republic Agency’s South Korean branch, starting next week as a music producer. You’ve arrived a few weeks in advance to settle into the area, and was advised by the agency to stop by JustJerk to greet another fellow member, famous choreographer Bada Lee.

Warnings: Swearing

AN: Recently relocated to this blog, hope you enjoy the read!

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Standing in front of the building, you take a deep breath and hope that the heart throb dancer you’ve seen on the dance show is as down to earth as Latrice have previously mentioned. Knowing that they are still filming the final few episodes of Street Women Fighter 2 and the possibility that the team’s schedule is jam packed, you crossed your fingers that you’ve arrived at a good time for a quick hello.

Walking into the reception area, you were greeted by the receptionist and stated your reasons of visit, along with a few administrative details. Once that is completed, you waited in front of the elevator, quickly checking your outfit. You’re wearing a turtleneck and an oversized coat, skirts with an opaque black tights underneath. Almost every inch of your skin was covered, a lesson you’ve learned during your visit to Akanen in Japan - people tend to stare a lot when you have this amount of tattoos, little artwork you’ve collected like stickers all over your body. Then there’s the intimidation factor, where people tend to find you inapprochable; you’ve decided to cover up a little for your first meet up with your agency member.

You noticed a loose shoelace right before the elevator arrived and squat down to lace up your platform boots - a signature piece on you that you never leave home without, a relic you take from your past life in Australia. The elevator dinged and you straightened yourself up to walk in.

The metal doors opened up to seven girls already inside, presumably coming up from the parking lot. Your eyes widen as you recognised the members of BEBE looking back at you, pausing their chatter to give you a polite nod. Initially planning on greeting the group leader in their studio, the sudden encounter took you by surprise. You entered the elevator with the girls and returned the greeting, only to promptly turn around to press on a random floor button. The doors closed and a moment of awkward silence filled the room.

When the elevator next opened up you excused yourself from the situation, “Have a great day lovely ladies,” came out of your mouth as you contemplated between ‘great day’ and ‘lovely day’, you marched down the corridor as the metal door slams behind you, trying to maintain your composure. As soon as the elevator moved on to the other floors you squatted down near the corridor, trying to bury your face from the encounter. You pulled out your phone to text the other Jam Republic dancer for a rant.

Y/N: LATRICE I COULDNT DO ITTTTT

Latrice: Wdym are u still standing in front of the building?

Latrice: Just walk in already u cowardly bitch 🥱

Y/N: I DID

Y/N: b-but they were just in the elevator and it was so cramped and so awkward and I freaked out 😭😭

Latrice: Ma’am are u telling me u were silent the whole elevator ride and followed them to the studio like a creep??

Y/N: What no I’m not an idiot wtf

Y/N: I went to a random floor instead

Latrice: Oh god you dumb cunt, I told u she’s really nice didn I?

Y/N: … yes :(

Y/N: … but they’re like really cute

Y/N: … and I was in an elevator with ALL 7 OF THEM

Y/N: Your honour it’s not my fault that I have problem talking to hot girls in an enclosed space

Latrice: boo, u whore

Y/N: Yes now come pick me up I know you and Kirsten are still in the area

On the other side of the elevator, the group exchanged a look and all started giggling. Your all black attire and looking statue, though did not help to make you any less intimidating, made quite an impression on the dancers. “Who’s that?” Sowoen was the first to break through the giggles. “I think I might’ve had a crush.” The youngest of the group twirled her hair between her fingers.

“Oh wow what about me?” The leader of the group interjected, her supple lips pouty, feigning a look of heartbreak.

Lusher lightly smacked their leader’s shoulder, “No but Sowoen is right, ‘lovely ladies?’ Damn that was smooth.” Tatter nodded and hummed along in agreement.

“Y’all see another tall hot dancer and have forgotten all about me, I see how it is.” Bada complaint and continued to fake-sulk. When the elevator opened up at their floor, your cotton candy perfume dissipated and the tall dancer found herself missing the sweet scent in the air.

Tatter side eyed her leader, “Emphasis on hot dancer, so you agree with our sentiment too huh-” her sentence was cut short by Bada poking her sides. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, Bada Lee has her eye on someone. I repeat, Ms. Lee is checking out someb-” the blonde was again attacked mercilessly by the taller girl.

“Excuse me I think I called first dib?” The youngest of the group protested. “I had eyes on mother first and I’ll fight.”

The group turned to her and all chimed in with disagreement, “Baby girl have you seen her? She’s gonna break your heart. I’ll have her instead.” The fox-eyed dancer added. The team laughed in unison as they got ready for the Performance Battle, putting aside their curiosity for the stranger.

[martialartslover7]

Tenten's Untold Backstory

After another long day of training, Might Guy has decided to treat his own pupils for dinner at the steakhouse. As a final protein boost, post-workout, always hits the spot for them. And as always, Rock Lee is the most enthusiastic about it, with Neji just wordlessly eating the beef, being always too exhausted to be dealing with his teammate's and his sensei's innate inability to ever put the brakes on with their enthusiasm overload.

But surprisingly, it came to the Hyuga's notice: Tenten wasn't looking as cheerful as she usually did. She wasn't even touching her own plate. She just looked... depressed. But Neji wasn't the only, gradually, even Rock Lee and Guy stopped their verbal assault on all senses, just to put all their focus on their weapon master, sharing the same genuinely concerned look as the Hyuga. With the latter asking in a gentle tone of voice:

"Tenten... Are you alright? You're unusually quiet today. Did something happen?"

When she looked up, she tried to act as if all was well, forcing herself to smile, in a vain attempt to not burden her team with her "nonsensical" burdens. Defensively holding up her hands throughout.

"Oh! Uh, it's nothing, really, I just... I just don't have that big an appetite today, is all. Can't help it, when I have already eaten my lunch, y'know. I don't need as much food as you guys. Hehe..."

But Rock Lee, who is usually the one to play along, saw right through her, and normally, he is not one to dwell too hard on something, as training and protein are his daily bread and butter. But beyond all else, he was still a loyal-to-a-tee teammate, and seeing her putting on this mask of "it's fine, don't worry about me", only served to add fuel to the fire. He asked in a very caring voice:

"...Come on, Tenten. We can tell something is bothering you. I have seen it all, while we were training with your weapons, today. You looked quite frustrated, and not even in a way that I would laugh at it. Tell us, what's the matter?"

Knowing she was caught, the weapon master lets out one sorrowful sigh, heavy of heart, she lets them know, what exactly was weighing heavy on her soul. And she began, with a question.

"...Have you guys ever wondered why I am so drawn to weapons? And why am I so obsessed with them? I know, it's cheesy to start it now, but... I need to fill you in."

Without saying a word, wanting to be respectful, her male teammates nodded, wanting to listen to her. And it starts with Tenten smiling in a nostalgic way, as she began looking back on her childhood. And we see images of a small Tenten, running around with toy swords, toy guns, toy bow & arrow, etc.

"Ever since I could think, I thoroughly enjoyed playing with toy weapons growing up. While all the other girls were busy playing with dolls, or collecting flowers, I was not one such girl. This stuff just bored me to death. ...I guess that's why Ino and Sakura refer to me as "the queen of tomboys", considering I am always sticking out like a sore thumb, every time I meet up with them, and Hinata. …Let alone the fact that I am nowhere near as boy-crazed as these three. And on every playground, you would see me, running around, wielding my toy sword, as if I was the queen of the playground, and everyone else is my servant."

Her teammates could only smile at that endearing imagery. A tiny Tenten, acting like a shogun, commanding an army with a toy katana.

But that is when Tenten's tone mildly darkened, as, the very moment she entered the academy, things went south, fairly quickly. She still recalled her first few days in classes, and how she was approached by a bunch of bullies, who called her a "freak", for casually wielding ninja tools, while everyone else struggled with them. The insults from the other fellow kunoichis hit the hardest. They would go as far as evading her completely, calling her "a degenerate", a "potential threat to their lives", and just straight up finding her weird. God forbid, a female shinobi obsessing over weapons, and being relatively efficient at using them, too, where would that lead to? 

"But then, once I got to the academy... If I were to describe it, it would be the equivalent to a straight nosedive from a plane crash before impact. All of a sudden, the people I grew up with, whom I had thought to be my friends, turned on me, and began calling me "weird", "mentally unwell", or worst of all, "potentially dangerous"... All because of my hobby with collecting weapons and studying them. And previously, they were all fine with it... I don't understand... Even now, I am confused out of my mind, at that sudden heel turn. And all the fellow kunoichi, they were the most nasty towards me. They would go as far as stealing my toy weapons, putting me on the spot in front of the whole class, making fun of me, all because of my "not-so-feminine" hobby. I mean, come on. A kunoichi proudly wielding weapons, what comes next? A male shinobi using an umbrella in battle?"

The venom and sarcasm at that last part really caught the three men off-guard, but their gazes softened, once they realized: Tenten quickly shifted from angry, to deeply upset. As she slumps onto the table, leaning her head onto her crossed arms, looking all kinds of deflated and frustrated.

"And it's all because of them, I have become so defensive of my hobby, turned specialty in combat. I am taking huge pride in it, because... ever seen a kunoichi with such a simple-minded, boneheaded approach to battle? ...It still won't protect me from the occasional reminder that I used to be made fun of for it, but, you know... you know..."

Her hazel eyes began growing mildly watery, as the more recent reminder, involved her humiliating loss against Tenten. Even though she knew that the circumstances at the time were the same that caused Temari to be this nasty and hostile towards Leaf ninja in general, it still didn't help. Those wounds still feel fresh to her. They didn't close up. And she still felt the side effects of that loss, to this day. Which explains her more recent grievances and doubts involving her fighting style. She began asking way too many questions about whether her specialty bore any weight any longer, or not.

"And well, losing to Temari really didn't help. It admittedly only served to scratch my ego even further. I gave it my all against her, and she just brushed me aside like I wasn't even worth her time, both literally and figuratively. All my weapons and tools proved useless against her, and she defeated me in a way that left a permanent scar in my mind. Sorry, if I end up sounding so miserable, but... that's how I feel, I can't help it."

She looked at Guy, knowing he might be having the urge to tell her that, "nothing is impossible", "hard work will always beat out natural talent", but right now, even he knew, this wasn't going to help her. As Tenten's issues run way deeper than just "needing to work harder". And yet, she longed for his encouragement, as she felt her own voice cracking, as she spoke:

"Sensei... I know what you might say next, "I am giving up way too early", but don't forget... I am not like you guys. My chakra nature and size is only SLIGHTLY above Lee's, and to be an efficient ninja, I will need way more than just consistent repetition and hard work to make it happen... I am sorry for sounding so gloomy, but... What can I do...? I am literally... at a loss, right now..."

As she spoke in such a self-punishing and deprecating manner, a sob escaped her lips, as the tears began flowing out of her eyes, feeling so overwhelmed and helpless right now.

Guy knew, that these issues must have been eating away at his young student for quite a while and seeing her expressing her insecurities in such a profound, deep-rooted way, his fatherly instincts kick in, as he goes over to Tenten's, kneeling down, embracing the young kunoichi, knowing she really needs this kind of emotional support right about now. He tells her gently, while caressing the back of her head:

"Don't worry, Tenten. Even with this, you shouldn't give up on yourself like that. We will figure something out, like we always have. Remember, in life, you only truly lose, if you give up. If you stop trying, then you'll be at a loss. But you're way stronger than that. Don't let anyone take this away from you, the fact that you made it this far with your love for weapons, should be more than enough for you to realize: There will always be a silver lining, waiting to be discovered."

Rock Lee cuts in, firmly agreeing with their sensei, but this time, it was his conviction speaking too. He knows it as well as her, when he lost to Gaara, and he was told he wouldn't be able to ever participate as a shinobi, ever again, he was also ready to throw in the towel. Luckily, this didn't happen, thanks to Lady Tsunade, and his bravery in facing the surgery, despite the outcome of it having been uncertain.

"Guy-sensei is right, Tenten. And I am saying this as someone, who would have nearly given up the path of shinobi, due to my injuries against Gaara of the Sand. If I can leave this seemingly hopeless situation, then so can you. I mean... I cannot exactly speak for myself, when it comes to weapons, but... maybe if you were to create your OWN tools, then there might a chance--"

But once Tenten processed over what Lee had just dropped for a phrase, her head abruptly looks up from Guy's shoulder, as she asked her teammate with wide eyes:

"Wait-wait-wait, what did you just say, Lee?!"

"Uh... my injuries? Never giving up?"

"No-no-no, after that! You said something like, "If I were to create my own tools, it would be a way to start over"..."

Rock Lee began smiling in a cheerful way, as he felt a little proud of himself for that small brainstorming of his.

"Oh yes... ...did I strike gold?"

Neji playfully added, with his arms folded:

"...Seems like you did. Look at her go."

And before anyone could guess what came next, Tenten was off, speeding home, but not before smiling at her teammates in such an adorable way, it would make anyone's heart flutter on sight.

"Thank you, everyone...! I now know what I must do... I'll create my own workshop! See you around!"

All three of them waved, as Guy began chuckling to himself, being quite proud of the two.

"Well, it seems that we may have ignited a spark within her. ...Are you two prepared to become her personal guinea pigs, along with me?"

Rock Lee nodded, and Neji commented by saying with his trademark smirk, all the while speaking in a gentle manner, knowing that this means the world to their teammate:

"Well, anything to make her happy. I will be right there."

"Me too, Guy-sensei!"

"That's my team. We succeeded again! Hahaha!"

He does his trademark toothy grin, before doing his thumbs-up, a shine appearing on his teeth.

Author's note: There you have it, folks. I gotta say, it took me a while, but I finally cracked the code on how to make Tenten based, in a sustainable way. Just make her an inventor, a builder of weapons, tools, even VEHICLES. Imagine her building aircrafts, using Shino's beetles as the basis for it, to chase after someone like Deidara. Just an idea. Or her building a visor that replicates the Byakugan's and Sharingan's property of reading chakra flow within a person's body. Also, you can call this the prologue to her rematch with Temari that I posted a week or so ago.

[nilboxes]

Let me raise you: Over-enthusiastic consent/sex, featuring Aventio being equally insane over eachother. Think Ratio is the type of guy to repress his sexual needs because it's just. it's there, masturbated once or twice but hasn't really thought about it. Aventurine might be the type of guy to either sleep around or not, but you can't really tell. You can tell he isn't the type to really enjoy sex though

And then enter Final Victor. They meet eachother and have never been so attracted before. Aventurine yes, he has seen the other before but never!! never met him!!! Face to face!!!! Ratio is slapped by the awakening and discovers he's more of a freak than he thought. The sex is good, better than good and hey, if Ratio keeps asking for more then who is Aventurine to deny? And if Aventurine is too eager then who's to say Ratio isn't?

Hello Anon! A lot of this I sort of already wrote in my first ever fic of them written way back in January, Audentis Fortuna Iuvat!

My read for Ratio really was that he had experience but he thought relationships were a hassle (that's what he gets for dating fellow academia people like him who I find to have little in the way of game, so to speak) and so yes he would just relieve himself by auto if he felt the need to, which was rare but he does have 👀 a collection of toys imo. I think it's a common take to characterize Aventurnie as a sl/t which I really think is off, for me because I personally don't think he sleeps around at all and he would be guarded about it, but I think there might have been instances where people tried and almost did get close to him through trying to get a relationship with him...

Anyway yeah in Audentis, I didn't get to write it out so much but Ratio really had a bit of an awakening with how much he liked being used like that during sex. Aventurine topped him good, and he eventually really did ask for more in the upcoming fic I am writing lol I jump straight to the emotional angst side of it in the series currently but i am working on some more light-hearted but introspective pwp with Ratio character study of how much he didn't think he'd accept Aventurine's advances but he did.

[chibi-celesti]

You said in tags your scared to post art of your yume ship but i say go for it!! People (me) would love to see it :)))

I'm a bit anxious since explaining my Yume and her background would feel like small potatoes compared to what I've seen from others...

But for you(and anyone else curious), I'll talk about her!

This is Saga Oscuro:

(Yes the initial basis for her was born from a Picrew before I could finalise some small details to make her my own ;-;)

Saga I made during the time I was rekindling my attempt at playing Twst since my original attempt I was thrown off by the levelup/ grinding system(I got better when I tried again when Endless Soireé and GloMas dropped on both servers). She obviously represented my love for drawing hence why she carries her signature red sketchbook. And while it may seem cliche, Saga is the Yuusona Yume for Twst.

She's 17 y.o. and the youngest child of two. While she tends to keep to herself at times, when she's with her older brother, Siegfried, her dry humor and sass are pretty obvious. She has an amicable relationship with said older brother, her mom, and late father; the latter whom shaped her into the creative spirit she is today.(There's more OC lore stuff about him I'll go into another time).

Where is she from? Earth. Her family live in a cozy(ficitious) town in New York, which is not too far from Coney Island.

How'd she wound up in Twst? She was wandering near the path of Coney Island's beaches, when, on her way back, the Dark Carriage encountered her and whisked her away. Her mother and brother both freaked out when she vanished since that day was also the anniversary of her father's passing.

Her Fav. Hobby? Art(lol), but she also likes to sing sometimes. And is also a decent cook, able to make meals that she and Grim can enjoy for themselves.

Fav. Class? Surprisingly History of Magic. She is observant of every detail in their textbooks, and get invested in the tales connected to each lesson. Ironically, she ends up being in the top 3 of getting good grades in that one. (She's Rank 2, just under a certain Rose Tyrant).

Club? None, but she has been eyeballing a few odd ones in particular(ie. Gargoyle Research and Mountain Lovers. With Equestrian being an iffy.)

Fav. Food? Potato candies. Her parents collected vintage cookbooks over the years, and Potato Candies were ones she loved the most.

Handness? Right.

Any Crushes? Two: Riddle and Malleus. Both were kind of unexpected since her first run with Riddle in Book 01 was...not that great. Post overblot, the both of them surprisingly clicked given their love for snacks, and how happy she was at Riddle trying to not go into Tyrant Overkill mode again. Malleus was thanks to the overnight visits and walks. Given their love for their parents(or in Mal-Mal's case, parental figure), she enjoyed his company alot. That AND she can relate to losing a love one alot.

People she despises/ keeps at arms length? Crowley: he's easy of a punching bag no thanks to his procrastination of sending her home, but there are times when she gives him the benefit of the doubt(his mannerisms remind her too much of her family at times). As for actual people she has problems with...it's mostly Fellow Honest due to the fact he nearly human trafficked her and her classmates, and Rollo due to how, to her, he felt like a dark reflection of her grief when she lost her dad. These two end up being cordial, but not enough for Saga to completely trust him again. Leona and Azul too no thanks to her disliking the former for thinking that endangering other peoples' lives over a school sport warrants no form of change(as far as she knows), and the latter for stealing her Dorm.(I know the highlight for twst is the fact the cast are all morally questionable, but you can't blame her for feeling she wants to either commit a felony herself to get away from them, or break the law and drink illegally).

Unique Magic/ Signature Spell? None. I've been debating on her developing one of her own, but odds are she might not get it.

Other fun facts about her?

Her favourite flowers are marigolds.

One time, when she first heard of Malleus' Birthday coming(the Year One cycle), she worked hard in Alchemy to make a red gem embued with a marigold in it and made it into a necklace. When she gave it to him, he loved it so much he made one for her, only it was green with a black rose inside it.

She's about ~ 7 years younger than Siegfried.

Despite her preferred brown dress, she admittedly liked how Vil helped her find her a clothing style that matched her well. He even did her hair in pigtails during the VDC training camp.

Anytime Ace and Grim pull stunts that get her in trouble, she does the 'Saga Chop'; uses her sketchbook to mollywop them in the head. She did this to Jamil once after his Overblot.

[crackrodent]

Check out the rest of my Flufftober library!

The Other Side of the Bar

Barry's Bar and Grill was always deserted so it was a safe place for Striker when work ran slow. The bartender was quick with the bourbon and for the pride ring the prices were pretty good. It was the only bar in the pride ring to still favor a jukebox over the sports channel. The quiet jazz playing in the background as he walked in wasn’t his cup of tea but it was soothing. He had taken the walk from the door to his stool right at the far right of the bar. He liked being as close to the crusty old oak as he could in case a shootout started. It made sense to have the best vantage point in most bars but this one was simply habitual.

“Just the usual,” Striker felt a pair of eyes on him, and they were not Oli his trusty barkeep. He kept his eyes forward as he waited for his glass. If he didn’t look maybe they would leave.

It didn’t work and the records in the jukebox must be scratched as they sounded distorted. The lighting flickered and a soft green light was the only source of visibility for the second it was all dark.

He gave up and glanced down the bar at the tall sinner standing there. He must have been seven feet tall, seven and a half with his deer antlers and fluffy red ears. He smiled but Striker could see through it right away.

“Drowning your troubles too, pal?” Striker said, putting on his own character if that was the game the man wanted to play.

The yellow teeth of the sinner’s smile exposed themselves more, “No. Just enjoying the radio waves dear fellow. Jazz is always a tasty treat! Don’t you agree?”

“Not usually,” Striker slammed down the rest of his drink and slid the empty glass back to Oli, “But it is growing on me.”

The smile on the other sinner looked more genuine now, “Well, never too late to develop better tastes I do suppose,” He stood up and moved to the stool next to Striker and held out his hand, “Alastor’s the name, but you might know me better by my reputation as the radio demon.”

He was right. He had no fucking idea the radio demon even had a name. He just knew that grumpy ol’ cat kept insisting he would have the money to pay him soon when he would drunk dial him. “Striker,” He shook Alastor’s hand, “I have had some clients inquire about you. Might want to watch out.”

“Oh Husker,” The smiling freak chuckled, “Always a feisty pet.”

“You know he’s tried to get you killed?” Striker said, suddenly wondering why the fuck he would even admit this to begin with.

“Of course! That's just Husker. The real question is if you are going to take him on as a client? He can be very particular I warn you.”

“I might if he can get the money together. He only calls when he’s drunk and broke.” Striker held up a two at Oli, “Something tells me that’s not going to happen though.”

Alastor laughed as he turned to Oli handing the pair their drinks, “Thank you Oli, so well behaved.”

Striker looked up at his trusty bartender, his red eyes looked down at the bar, wiping away nothing. His usual pout had been replaced with a nervous smile. The sinner was owned by the radio demon too. He wanted to talk about anything other than the mess he had started.

“So, what’s earth like?”

Alastor froze momentarily before putting the mask back on. “It was so long ago I was there. It had to be almost a hundred years! I have no idea what it would be like now.” His static laugh sounded even more hollow than before.

“What was it like then? Don’t need to be too exact just,” He paused, thinking, “Was the food better up there?”

“My mother’s jambalaya recipe. Hell is missing a few ingredients. The only earthy treasure I miss.” Alastor’s false confidence was back in full swing.

“Yeah, my mother had some recipes I wish I still had.”

“Not quite the same, having the full recipe and never finding the missing ingredients compared to needing to remember the recipe so you can go collect the ingredients.”

“No, but it might be the closest anyone has ever come to understanding you in a while I’d bet,” Striker slid Oli his dues for the three drinks and a tip for his troubles. “I am sure we’ll meet again Alastor.”

Striker walked out of the bar, leaving Alastor fuming behind the stoic mask he worked so hard to maintain. He hated that Imp for being correct and he hated that he did hope they would meet again soon. Striker was a curious little thing and Alastor almost considered actually paying Husk for a chance to see him again.

[inkameswetrust]

ᰔ || 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐒 [Chapter 2: Out of Body & Out of Mind]

Pairing(s): Beau Santiago x Jordan Porter-Morales, Beau Santiago x James Diamond

Characters: Beau Antonio Santiago, Andy Williams, Mr. Richard Brown, Jordan Porter-Morales

Content Warnings: Pre-Established Relationship, Toxic Relationship, BL, Teen Angst, Verbal Abuse, Emotional/Physical Manipulation

Word Count: 5,523

If you are not comfortable reading about any of the themes listed in the Content Warnings, do not interact. Otherwise, please enjoy! Be sure to check out my Character Introduction Blog if you haven't yet. It'll give you some insight on the original characters that play big roles in this story. You can also read Freak Flags on AO3!

Before you read, I want to go ahead and thank you for being here! This is my 1000th post on Tumblr and I think that's pretty rad. Whether you've been here since the beginning or you're just now tuning in, I'm extremely grateful for every interaction my posts receive. The smile on my face from every like, reblog, comment, and ask is ridiculously huge. You guys inspire me to do all that I do! <3

**divider by @saradika-graphics**

1:54pm

Beau trudged out of the boys’ gym locker room with his leather rucksack bag loosely hanging from his shoulder by one measly strap. He dragged his feet against the floor with each labored step and kept his eyes on his shoelaces. He felt as thought his fellow students were passing him by in slow motion. They left a trail of poorly-colored blurs behind them as he paced down the hall with a long face and a troubled mind.

The poor songwriter hadn’t even noticed the open door staring him in the face as he walked into it and bumped his forehead against the panel with an embarrassingly loud thud. “Ow!” he cried, cupping his forehead with his left hand and grimacing through the idle snickering of the classroom. A walk of shame couldn’t even begin to describe the steps he took from the door to his assigned seat.

“Haha, idiot!” A particularly annoying student called out from across the room.

“Oh, put a sock in it, Kyle!” Andy squawked. “Don’t you have another football game to get benched on?”

The small swarm of students surrounding Kyle erupted in laughter and roaring disbelief. Their rambunctious voices swallowed the only one Kyle had and left him speechless in the muddy puddles of his own shame. “She friggin owned you, dude!” Another student cried from the clumpy mass of athletes sitting near the door.

“Shut up, Travis, before I put your embarrassment of an offense at the Freeport game in the school paper,” Andy warned, her voice dripping with venom and her fists clenched with white knuckle fury.

Laughter bounced from student to student; a russian roulette of shame and humiliation spinning amongst them preceding a trail of wounds left by Andy’s weaponized remarks. She rolled her eyes at their comments and reactions, but was just happy to have taken their collective attention off of her friend. His rightfully harmless slip-up seemed like small potatoes in comparison to their mortifying shortcomings.

Beau slumped into his desk and buried his face in his hands, his leather rucksack bag sitting at his feet. Silence engulfed him and swallowed what little voice he had left. Andy took a seat beside him and tucked her corduroy crossbody back into the barred shelf beneath her chair.

“Hey, Beau,” Andy greeted with the wave of her hand. “How was P.E.?”

Beau quickly shattered his melancholic demeanor, sweeping up the pieces and tossing them into the void like discarded trash. “Good,” he replies while keeping glancing through his peripherals but keeping his face forward.

Andy could immediately sense something was up. She furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyes to slits as she studied Beau’s face to analyze its features in her endeavor to decipher the root of his dismay. Though, it seemed the novelist already had an idea of what happened; an educated guess, a hunch. She could only infer that by the heartbroken look in Beau’s eyes and the fact that he came from P.E. class, there could only be one reason why her best friend looked absolutely crushed.

“What did he do?” Andy inquired, the low rumble in her throat coating the demanding tone in her voice as she slowly annunciated each word to ensure Beau heard her loud and clear.

“W-What? Nothing!” Beau retorted as a knee-jerk reaction.

“Don’t lie to me, Beau!” Andy squawked in response. “What did he do to you? What did he say to you? I swear I’ll kill him!”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Beau shouted in a whisper through his teeth as he gestured with stiff, open palms. “Nothing happened, so just drop it, alright? I can’t afford to be thinking about him right now. I just want to get through class so I can practice for my audition and get outta here.”

Andy gazed at Beau solemnly. She wanted him to face her, look her in the eye, and tell her he was okay. It pained her to realize she wouldn’t see a fraction of that, but it pained her even more to know Beau was deeply hurt and was refusing to let her in. There wasn’t anything she could do without even the slightest bit of information.

“Okay,” Andy sighed on the midst of heartbreak. “How’re you getting there, anyway?”

“I’m taking the train,” Beau answered plainly.

“The train? Beau, Huntington is half an hour away by car. It’ll take you three times as long to get there by train!” Andy warned. “School ends at two thirty, so you’d have to leave no later than three.”

“It’s fine, I got it under control,” Beau assured sharply.

“Why didn’t you just ask your mom to take you?” Andy asked, thinking that would’ve been the obvious first choice.

“Because she doesn’t know about the audition, okay?” Beau hissed.

“What…?” Andy breathed in disbelief. “How could she not know? If you’ve been raving about it all week like you say you have, there’s no way she couldn’t know.”

“Well, I didn’t tell her! I didn’t want her to know on the off chance I didn’t make it,” Beau explained. “If I make it then I’ll be more than happy to tell her. If I don’t then, well, she won’t have to know and no one gets disappointed. It’s a win-win.”

“But… you’ll be disappointed, won’t you?” Andy questioned.

“I’ll be fine,” Beau sighed as he averted his gaze and turned his head to the side.

Andy recognized that there wasn’t much truth to Beau’s words. It didn’t take a genius to realize he often said things were fine when they weren’t. The novelist’s heart ached for her emotionally distant friend. Nothing could minimize her need to console Beau in his hour of need, as often as that hour may be. She fell into this role of comforting him and being his voice of reason partially because she wasn’t sure who else would take on that responsibility. It had gotten increasingly difficult at times. There were days when Andy wasn’t sure if her songwriter friend would ever lower his walls again, but she was never any less determined to stay at his side. She liked it there. It was comfortable, like she belonged there. 

Andy leaned away from her desk, outstretching her hand and giving Beau’s shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She rubbed comforting circles into his muscles in hopes to alleviate any amount of pain clouding his judgement and keeping him distant. Although Beau never said it, the fact that he leaned into Andy’s touch despite not looking her in the eye reminded her that he appreciated her support and understanding. He couldn’t, in his right mind, shut Andy out if he wanted to. Beau was just as comfortable at her side as she was at his.

“Santiago! Williams!” Mr. Brown called out from the front of the classroom with his arms folded atop his beer belly. “No talking, eyes front.”

“Sorry, Mr. Brown,” Beau and Andy apologized in unison with two distinct tones of voice, one docile and sweet, the other melancholic and indifferent.

The sound of Mr. Brown’s voice faded into the background as he began giving a lesson on something Beau couldn’t bring himself to care about or pay attention to. His eyes were glued to his desk as he picked at the cracks with one hand and rested his chin in the other. Andy, in good conscience, couldn’t give her undivided attention to the lesson when Beau was right there beside her in such a state of dismay. She was determined to do something, anything at all to assuage the troubled songwriter. Andy was restless and torn, bouncing her leg under her desk and tapping the wood beneath her fingertips in anticipation. But she figured it’d be best to assess Beau’s troubles after class.

“Williams!” Mr. Brown snapped.

“Eek!” Andy squeaked in surprise as she snapped her head to the front of the class without a second thought.

“Eyes. Front. I won’t tell you again,” Mr. Brown warned.

“Yes, sir. Sorry… again,” Andy winced in defeat.

2:31pm

Students filed out of the classroom in masses. Their vocal rejoices bounced from wall to wall until the only sound left to trail behind was the staggering rhythm of footsteps. Beau remained seated for a moment longer, sulking and stewing in his thoughts while Andy collected her things. She gazed at Beau as solemnly as she did at the beginning of the class. Nothing seemed to have changed. He remained still, silent, stagnant. That worried her immensely.

“Beau,” Andy called out from beside him.

He didn’t answer. The songwriter trapped himself in web of his own thoughts, sticking to a certain corner of his mind without light, without reason, without hope. Although Andy was sympathetic toward Beau, this level of sulking was excessive even for him. She hoisted her corduroy crossbody bag onto her shoulder and knelt down to the distracted songwriter’s level.

“Beau?” Andy tried again.

Again, no response whatsoever. His lack of movement and spacial awareness was jarring. If Andy didn’t know any better, she’d think she was talking to a corpse. This didn’t stop her, however. Her eyes narrowed to slits, her brows furrowing closely above like clouds swirling and stewing before the strike of a thunderstorm.

“If you don’t answer me, I’m going to kick you,” Andy warned.

To no one’s surprise, Beau has yet to respond or even twitch. Andy gestures with an impartial shrug and neutral expression as she swings the sole of her left combat boot into Beau’s ankle. With that, he finally springs to life as he jolts up in his seat and snaps his head in Andy’s direction.

“Uhm, ow?!” Beau grumbled with an agitated spark in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, I warned you,” Andy replied sternly.

“What are you talking about?” Beau retorted.

“Beau, class is over and you’re still in your seat,” Andy groaned, her open palms parallel to one another.

“It is?” Beau uttered in confusion as he darted his head in every direction to scan his surroundings.

“Yes, let’s go,” Andy demanded as she shuffled toward the door.

Beau quickly swiped his leather rucksack bag from the floor and followed closely behind with only one strap loosely circling his shoulder. He joined Andy out in the hallway and walked alongside her despite the unnerving sense of uneasiness brewing in the pit of his stomach. They were still headed for his locker as they often were at the end of the school day, but it felt painfully awkward this time around. He just couldn’t shake his nerves.

Andy glanced at Beau through her peripherals without ever turning her head. She kept her fingers tightly wrapped around the strap of her bag as she used everything in her power to maintain a solid, stoic, statuesque expression on her face. Beau did the same, glancing at Andy through his peripherals with a more telling expression in comparison. He swallowed thickly, nervously scratching the back of his neck with one hand and stuffing the other in his pocket. 

Try as she may, Andy couldn't hide her growing concern for her songwriter companion. Her gaze softened the more Beau’s attempts at self-soothing staggered and failed. He picked at the fabric inside his pocket and tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was torture watching him keep his troubled thoughts to himself. After swallowing her pride and lightly exhaling through her nose, Andy finally decided to break the silence.

“You seem distracted today,” The novelist remarked plainly.

Beau turned his head only slightly, the majority of his gaze still residing in his peripherals. His eyes weren’t entirely focused, but at least they weren’t avoiding Andy’s face. Though, he hadn’t noticed they’d finally stopped in front of his locker. As the songwriter brought his focus back to center, he shook his head and blinked repeatedly to ground himself and fully take in his surroundings. He wondered how they’d gotten there so fast. Time passed in blurs and Beau was often in his own head as a strange means of self-preservation.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean,” Andy remarked with a sternly pointed finger. “You’re totally out of it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m fine,” Beau refuted as he cupped the back of the lock in one hand and reached for the dial with the other. Once setting his thumb and index finger on the dial, he stared blankly at the numbers and realized he couldn’t recall the combination to his locker. His eyes widened and slowly traveled to the side to meet a cross-armed, narrow-eyed, fed-up-with-his-nonsense Andy.

“Uhhh…” Beau uttered defeatedly, letting his voice drag the same way his feet did when he begrudgingly shuffled to Mr. Brown’s classroom.

“Eleven, twenty eight, nine,” Andy groaned through her teeth, annunciating each number slowly and individually.

“R-Right, I knew that,” Beau breathed nervously as he twisted the dial, “I was just testing you.”

“Beau, c’mon,” Andy shook her head.

“Okay, so I’m a little distracted. So what? I’ll be fine,” Beau rolled his eyes, opening his locker and retrieving his guitar case.

“No you won’t, though. You keep saying that, but you’re clearly upset and you won’t even talk to me about it.” Andy winced.

Beau hurriedly shoveled books in and out of his locker. He knew Andy was right and he could only deny that for so long. As well-meaning as he is, he’s frustrated with himself for constantly digging himself into a hole. Especially when Andy is normally the one to dig him out of said hole.

“I’m just… worried about you,” Andy confessed solemnly.

The songwriter stopped in his tracks, loosely clinging to the door of his locker but not refusing to shut it just yet. His backpack returned to its rightful throne on his shoulders one strap at a time as a wistful sigh slipped past him like a dandelion floating in the breeze.

“I know,” Beau remarked lowly, slowly shutting his locker and refastening the lock.

“I won’t press you about it anymore,” Andy compromised. “But I don’t want you to keep your feelings bottled up either and then everything blows up in your face. You have such a huge opportunity in front of you right now and I don’t want whatever’s bothering you to get in the way of that.”

“You think I’d let everything blow up in my face?” Beau scoffed with a quirked brow.

“No…” Andy muttered. “But I’m worried you might. Emphasis on ‘might’.”

“Okay, I suppose that’s fair,” Beau admitted, tilting his head clockwise and relieving himself of the exhaustion from keeping Andy at bay. “I’m sorry I’ve made you worry so much. I know you’re just looking out for me.”

“Don’t be, it’s my job to worry about you,” Andy chuckled lightly. “But you could’ve been less of a jerk about it.”

“...I deserve that,” Beau mumbled. “So, are we good?”

“Yeah,” Andy affirmed, stepping closer and throwing her arms around Beau’s neck to squeeze him into a warm, much-needed hug. “We’re good.”

Beau hummed contentedly, ensnaring Andy’s torso in his arms to return the gesture of her hug. He rested his chin on her shoulder and leaned into her touch similarly to when she consoled him at the beginning of their previous class. It seemed silly to have thwarted Andy’s attempts at comforting him now that Beau remembered what it felt like to have her this close. He held on for a little while longer and squeezed her a little more to better convey his relief and gratitude. Andy rejoiced with a silent yet immensely beaming grin. She squeezed him back for a few seconds more before pulling away and giving his shoulder a firm pat.

“You want me to walk you to the auditorium?” Andy inquired.

“No, that’s alright,” Beau replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, that much I’m sure of.”

“Okay, okay,  just checking,” Andy chuckled. “If you need anything, I’ll be at Newspaper Club.”

“‘Kay,” Beau reached for his guitar case and held it at the handle on the side.

“Promise me you’ll tell me how your audition goes,” Andy demanded lightheartedly as she turned on her heel.

“You’ll be the first person I call,” Beau assured heartily.

The newly hopeful songwriter stood there for a moment and watched as his best friend strode in the other direction. A heavy sigh escaped him at the realization that he’ll now have to face the music both figuratively and literally. He gripped the handle of his guitar case with a similar squeeze that Andy would use to console him, letting it tremble in his weary hand as he marched toward the auditorium and braced himself for the challenges to come.

His muddy brown Converse sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor as he dragged his feet with each step. Beau’s guitar case clunked in his hand, swinging back and forth in small motions. Passersby tunneled behind the songwriter in his peripherals and blurred out of existence. His ears rang with muffled sounds of idle chatter and white noise. The closer he stepped toward the double doors leading to the auditorium, the stronger and louder these noises became.

A twinge of pain struck his heart like a needle to a vein. Beau clutched the fabric of his shirt with his right hand, wrinkling and creasing it with his unsteady grip. He ground his motions to a halt and stood in the middle of the hallway in absolute deafening silence. There couldn’t have been more than twenty feet of distance between his trembling body and the strangely haunting double doors.

The songwriter gazed at the entrance to the auditorium in paralyzing fear. He was wide-eyed and uncertain. He didn’t want to face Jordan. He didn’t want to be his puppet and allow himself to fall victim to his villainous persuasion. Beau slowly crept his hand into his back pocket, retrieved his cell phone, and flipped it open to read the time. The digital clock onscreen read 2:36pm. He had until three o’clock to meet Jordan. 

In an attempt to ground himself and come up with a plan, the songwriter believed that with any amount of courage he could muster he could simply sneak away before then and avoid Jordan entirely. Additionally, he could text Jordan and make a seemingly believable story to excuse his absence. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was feasible enough that even Beau couldn’t screw it up if he stayed on his guard. Could there be repercussions for weaseling out of the plans he felt pressured into making? Sure. But nothing could be worse than missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime twice. Not to mention, Andy would never let him hear the end of it.

His cell phone chimed with a beep, alerting him of an incoming text message. Snapping out of his downward spiral, Beau clicked on the notification with the navigation pad and opened the message. It was from Andy. There couldn’t be a better time for her words of encouragement to fish Beau out of his stupor.

4ndy: wishing u luck! not that u’ll need it. lol. <3

A sigh of relief washed over him like a wave crashing onto the shoreline and waning into the sand. “Thank God for Andy,” Beau thought to himself as he gazed down at his screen with renewed vigor and sense of self. His thumbs skipped along the keyboard in sporadic motions to send his novelist friend—savior, if you will—a text message in reply.

B3au: thx :) u da best

It was settled. With this plan in mind, Beau stuffed his cell phone back into his pocket and marched toward the double doors. He was still plenty jittery and rightfully nervous, but he was far more certain of himself than he was mere moments ago. He shoved his way past the double doors and faced the auditorium head on. It was cold, empty, quiet; exactly the way he liked it. Its vacancy brought him an odd sense of comfort. He hurried down the dimly lit path splitting the endless rows of seats down the middle and climbed atop the stage as if to leap over a fence.

Beau lowered his leather rucksack bag and guitar case to the ground, and hurried backstage to search for any small amplifiers the concert band may have left behind. He found a Fender Champion 600 tucked away behind a rack of costumes that belonged to the theatre department. He swiped past vividly colorful dresses and suits alike to unearth the amplifier out from its dusty corner. There it was; small, boxy, and beige with brown accents. It was perfect.

The songwriter lugged the amplifier onstage and set it down beside his belongings. He knelt down and zipped open his guitar case to reveal a crimson red EKO Camaro electric guitar. Even in the desolate lighting of an unoccupied auditorium, its spellbinding colors never failed to sparkle. Every time Beau laid eyes on this vixen of an instrument, he felt lucky, grateful, complete. It had taken him nearly a year to save up enough money to buy this thing. But after all that freelance work of mowing lawns and picking up extra chores around the house for a boost in allowance, he was sure it was the best spent two hundred and seven dollars and fifty two cents of his life.

Beau retrieved his electric guitar, equipping it via the shoulder strap and plugging it into the amplifier as if to ignite a fire. He fiddled with the tuning pegs for a few moments to reach his ideal sound. The strings quivered with a melodious twang after each adjustment until each individual string struck a perfectly harmonious chord. A satisfied smirk crept onto his face. It was ready. He was ready. Or… so he thought. 

Having his electric guitar tuned and ready to go, Beau was faced with the realization that he wasn’t quite sure what song to choose for the audition. He’d been practicing a myriad of Green Day songs to have plenty of options to choose from, but he never narrowed down any solid choices. He stood in the face of decision paralysis, nervously tapping his fretboard and cycling through a whole discography’s worth of selections to choose from in his head. Which song would be the easiest? Which would sound the coolest? Which would look the most impressive? There were plenty of variables that’d influence his decision, but it seemed he had more questions than answers.

Beau then determined that pinpointing a certain album would help narrow down his choices. He settled on American Idiot. It wasn’t brand new, but it was recent enough to still be popular. Could the title track be a good option? No, that’d be too basic, he thought. Wake Me Up When September Ends? Nope, that was a bit too somber for an occasion like this. Give Me Novacaine? 

“Yes!” Beau exclaimed with the pump of his fist.

That was the perfect choice; a perfect balance of emotion and sound with enough space to show off some serious skill. The songwriter found he was too invigorated for warmups. He jumped head-first into the deep end and plunged his guitar pic into the strings as he began strumming in the key of A. It started out mellow and savory like water that has yet to boil. It simmers over the stove in the confines of a pot or kettle as it waits for the heat to build. Only when bubbles start to rise and steam starts to flow has it reached its full searing potential. 

Beau closed his eyes, re-envisioning the stage at the Paramount and the sensations that came with it; the spotlight igniting his skin like the strike of a match, the cries of adoring fans engulfing every corner of the room, and the silver-suited music producer who has the jurisdiction to make or break his lifelong dream with a single word. He saw everything so clearly.

The songwriter quickened his strumming, picking the strings with a more intricate rhythm as the lyrics lay dormant on the tip of his tongue. He tightened his grip on the neck of his guitar and pressed his fingers against the fretboard more firmly with each passing chord.

“Take away the sensation inside… bittersweet migraine in my head,” Beau began, his voice carrying a simple, stable melody. “It’s like a throbbing toothache of the mind. I can’t take this feeling anymore.”

A busier tempo began to develop. The tighter Beau’s grip on the guitar became, the harder and more vigorously he strummed. Every fiber of his being from his shoulders to his fingertips stiffened, but his head rocked with ease to the cadencing rhythm as it continued to blossom.

“Drain the pressure from the swelling. This sensation’s overwhelming,” Beau vocalized, his voice starting to rise from a composed purr to a hearty belt. “Give me a long kiss goodnight and everything’ll be alright…”

The cheers from the imaginary crowd spurred him on. Roaring voices, flashing lights, adoring faces, and the promise of something greater—the thought of it all caused his head to swim and his heart to somersault in his chest. He was dizzied and dazed by his glimpse into the possible future.

“Tell me that I won’t feel a thing, so give me… novacaine!” Beau’s voice rasped with power as his breath weighed down in his lungs like an anchor underwater.

The sounds of his stringed expertise drowned out his voice, making the lyrics practically inaudible. His voice waned until it stopped completely, allowing himself the chance to focus solely on the steel-colored strings his fingers teetered on like tightropes. They waltzed across the fretboard, swaying and sliding from side to side while the pick in Beau’s other hand struck the strings at the opposite end with enough force to cut glass.

The music left him restless. It pulled up his shoulders, it blew through his hair, it buckled in his knees, and it curled in his fingers and toes. He glided across the stage with his feet light on the floor as if to step from one cloud to another. The deafening cries from the his imaginary audience and beaming smiles as far as the eye can see fueled the flame of passion flickering in the pits of his incandescent soul.

Beau effortlessly floated to the foot of the stage, his toes slipping just past the edge. His head was too high up in the clouds to notice how far he’d drifted from the amplifier. The cord began to stretch, causing the amplifier to shift until its connection loosened little by little. Just as the preoccupied songwriter was about to drop to his knees and reach the peak of his instrumental prowess, the force he used in pulling his guitar too far caused the cord to come loose. His eyes snapped open a second too late, and he tripped from the loss of footing. Beau’s shrill cry was silenced just as soon as it ruptured from the back of his throat by a pair of familiar arms that ensnared him in their embrace and caught him before his body hit the floor.

“Careful there, rockstar,” Jordan purred with a smirk.

“Huh?” Beau uttered in confusion as he slowly turned his head to face the one person he hoped he wouldn’t yet see. “Jordan!!”

A spark of electricity jolted through Beau’s body, causing him to jump out of Jordan’s arms and freeze momentarily once his feet returned to the floor. How long had he been rehearsing for? How long had that silver-tongued bassist been standing there?

“W-What are you doing here?” Beau trembled as he gripped the neck of his guitar for dear life.

“Well, I heard that sweet riff you had going on and decided I wanted a front row seat to your performance,” Jordan hummed, his voice like liquid honey. “And what a stellar performance it was.”

“Really?” Beau cooed, tilting his head counter clockwise and melting around the edges. His trance was cut short, however, by the vigorous shake of his head. “Wait, no. I mean what are you doing here now?”

“It’s… past three o’clock,” Jordan said plainly.

“What? That’s impossible, I just got here,” Beau refuted.

“Beau, unless every clock in this school is broken, including the one in my phone, it is definitely past three,” Jordan insisted.

“I’m telling you there’s no way it is—” Beau began as he swiped his cell phone from his back pocket and stared at the screen wide-eyed and paralyzed by disbelief. “—currently 3:08, oh my god.”

Beau winced at the digital clock on his screen. If he ever wanted to make it to his audition on time, he’d have to leave immediately. But he promised Jordan he’d stay with him in the auditorium, and it’d take the guts of a champion to weasel his way out now. The songwriter thought if he conjured up an excuse and hurried out now, he could still make it to the audition with no greater than fifteen to thirty minutes to spare.

“You don’t seem too pleased,” Jordan sighed with crossed arms.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Beau whimpered. “But I should really get going.”

“What? You can’t leave, we had plans!” Jordan whined.

“I’m really sorry, Jordan. I just have this… commitment,” Beau declared weakly. “A very important commitment, really. And it’ll just throw my whole week off if I don’t show up for it.”

“What about your commitment to me? We’re in a relationship!” Jordan retorted, his anger on the rise like the harsh winds whistling and howling before the strike of a tornado.

“We can hang some other time, I’m just busy today,” Beau assured, his body freezing over and stiffening like a puddle in a snowstorm.

“See, now that sounds like someone who isn’t committed to me,” Jordan chuckled maliciously. “Am I crazy for getting that vibe? ‘Cause it sounds to me like this commitment of yours—what ever it may be—is more important to you than me.”

“W-What? No!” Beau cried as he pulled his guitar strap over his head and lowered his precious instrument to the stage floor behind him. “You’re so important to me!”

“Am I now?” Jordan inquired sarcastically.

“Of course you are,” Beau insisted, clasping his hands together in worship. “You are the most important person in my life.”

Jordan brushed his hand against Beau’s cheek and gazed into those beautifully solemn brown eyes of his. He doused the flame of the songwriter’s self esteem with a wave of words he knew would keep him wrapped around his calloused, accessory-ridden finger. There was something unimaginably satisfying about watching Beau plead with his baby-doll eyes the same way a starving puppy would when begging for scraps. 

It stroked his ego. It filled him with immeasurable power. It made him feel unstoppable. But his face never conveyed such thoughts. Instead, his softened gaze disarmed Beau and kept him close. He leaned into Jordan’s touch without a second thought and mirrored his hand with his own. 

“Important enough for you to stay with me a little longer?” Jordan hummed like a lullaby. “That’s all I ask of you.”

“I suppose I could stay for a little while longer,” Beau obliged reluctantly. “But then I really do have to go.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you too long,” Jordan assured.

“Thanks,” Beau muttered.

Jordan captured Beau’s lips in a chaste kiss. It was quick, gentle, soft—the exact opposite of what his kisses normally felt like. It was kisses like this that disarmed the songwriter in seconds because, for a moment, he almost felt safe. But that may have been due to that silver-tongued devil breaking down his self-esteem to build it back up time and time again.

“Y’know, you looked really good up on that stage,” Jordan purred as he pulled away. “I haven’t seen you shred like that in a long time.”

“You really mean that?” Beau whispered with stars in his eyes.

“Of course, baby, would I ever lie to you?” Jordan smirked, punctuating his words with a kiss atop Beau’s cheek.

“No, I guess not,” Beau giggled, “Does that mean you want to shred with me?”

“Jeez, y’know I would but I kinda left my bass at home…” Jordan replied with moderate uncertainty.

“You mean, like, the bass you’re carrying on your back right now?” Beau queried as he pointed to Jordan’s bass guitar case.

Jordan snapped his head in reverse with eyes as wide as oceans and brows as high as the clouds. He’d completely disregarded the fact he’d been wearing his bass guitar case on his back during this entire encounter. “R-Right, I obviously have my bass,” Jordan peeped as he nervously scratched the back of his neck. “But the thing is I don’t have my amp on me.”

“You mean the amp you left on the floor right next to you?” Beau queried once more, pointing at the guitar amplifier right beside Jordan’s left foot.

“Beau, don’t make this difficult. We were having a nice moment here,” Jordan groaned in annoyance.

“Sorry,” Beau uttered sheepishly.

[isthebootylogical]

welcome to my metaphysical toxic old man yaoi cuck chair

beloved moots call me the booty never mind tumblrs porn filters shadow banned me for using a naughty word so izzy (for my fellow izzy hands apologists) or logic it is!

+18 only please and thanks

they/he/she (genuinely whatever, being intersex and nonbinary is weird lads)

need a beta reader? anyone?? please??? your kinks and out of pocket headcannons are safe with me. (I swear I write more elegantly than my tumblr may suggest, I’m just enjoying the local dialect if you will)

a collection of my all time favorite fics

you also can find me poking around on instagram and locked in horny jail on blsky under the same pseud

come yap in my dm’s anytime this is a yapper4yapper friendly space. feel free to consult below the cut for yapping material.

Old Man Yaoi Always - any time any place any function give me a rec for some old man gay shit I'm not already on and my life is yours

star trek - tos, tng, & lower decks mostly but I love em all honestly

arcane - jayvik has my ass and i'm in pain every waking moment but I can moan about the show's issues with the best of them

the warriors musical - I hold the right to project my gender onto ajax at all times also "writing" a "fic" w a beloved moot that's a star trek crossover currently

doctor who - seen a smattering of classic who and all of new who up to 13 and then it becomes a smattering of things i've stayed up to date on

zelda - started playing botw recently and zelink has me in a chokehold

ofmd - rip in fucking pieces brother I will always be loyal and always have faith in the season 3 our lord and savior david envisioned also izzy is my number one little bitch

iwtv - ready for rockstar lestat and devils minion to blow my nipples clean off

starkid - tgwdlm is my new age favorite but twisted is the goat

sonic - stobotnik?? uh yeah. yeah I freaks nasty with it.

[zhuchische]

do you love the color of the beetle ?

[small upd. 08.08.25]

confirmed: local freak is BACK in the building << i just moved blogs but my old one still exists lol hello everynyan! my name is pepper stag, i go by they/it + neos, might link my pronounscc here sometime . i am a system, so this account is operated not only by me + feel free to address us as a collective, but either way is fine! fellow transfag on the aroace spectrum, audhd, bpd, cptsd, psychotic, nonhuman, disabled w chronic pain, normal about things + i will die while trying to list every single aspect about myself eng/ru, not bilingual, just stupid twice. russian and white, anti-state leftist, vatniki+pro-war scum+righties can go jump into a pool of fiberglass, i hate you i am very autistic about bugs and medical themes, as well as horror and maybe some other stuff ( mysteriously ) i also casually enjoy a bunch of other stuff which you might see on this blog

feel free to hit me up if you want to be mutuals, im a friendly dog ! (also i forget to follow people back sometimes) asks are welcomed from anyone, yappin' is welcomed, write me on discord at s1llybug if you want

this blog is 16+ and it might contain suggestive and sensitive content, view at your own risk. i always try to tag, so you can block these tags: suggestive, tw blood, tw gore. you can ask me to tag other things, but please be aware i may refuse because tis my blog

basic dni ++ zionists, exclusionists, anti-endos, mean jerks and bug haters are not welcome. in general we tolerate everything besides intolerance and block liberally. also we don't care about chronically online discourse and love nuance. ta-ta !

[droughtofapathy]

The Gilded Age's Broadway Divas: Susan Blane (Laura Benanti)

Newly widowed Susan Blane has one purpose on this show, and apparently it's to get railed by a younger man and then get chased off by his mother and have her heart broken. Again. And then we never see her again. The end. Justice for Susan.

Now, I will preface this by saying that Laura Benanti lands outside my scope of interest--she's a little young for my tastes. However, I've always been amused and delighted by her performances, and I appreciate how raunchy she is, even if the quirkyness can be a bit...much at times. Laura is a five-time Tony nominee who won in 2008 for her role as Louise in Gypsy alongside Patti LuPone.

Starting off young, Laura Benanti made her Broadway debut at eighteen as the understudy to the late great Rebecca Luker's Maria in The Sound of Music, and eventually replaced her. She's had roles as Cinderella in Into the Woods (2002), Candela in Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, and Eileen Sherwood in the Encores! Wonderful Town opposite Donna Murphy, our beloved Mrs. Astor.

#1: "Wouldn't it be Loverly?" My Fair Lady (2018)

Lincoln Center is soprano territory. As one of the classical soprano dying breeds, Laura took over the role of Eliza Doolittle from Lauren Ambrose in the recent Broadway Revival. Her Eliza was older than most (Laura was on the cusp of forty when the took the role), and a delight, I must say. This show is, of course, a classic, and as such is dated like a classic. The production did attempt to give Eliza more agency, and it seemed to go over fine.

As Susan Blane spends most of her time in the white clothing of Newport, I just kept thinking about the Ascot Gavotte the entire time. The ladies of Newport would fit right in at the racetrack.

Fellow soprano Kelli O'Hara has also played this role in a different Lincoln Center theater back in 2007.

#2: "Model Behavior," Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (2011)

A critical failure despite its stellar cast, this show closed in less than three months, but nevertheless earned Laura a Tony nomination and a Drama Desk. Watching this masterclass of a breakdown, you can see why. Set in 80s Spain, the show features Candela, played by Laura, who's freaking out because her romantic interest might be a terrorist. But other than that, he's perfect. She sure knows how to pick 'em...

Tension behind the scenes between leading lady Sherie Rene Scott and Diva Patti LuPone made things a little...well. Anyway.

#3: Laura Benanti & The Skivvies - Passion Massion (2014)

So, I'm gonna be honest, I was going to go with a different Skivvies video, but then I saw Sexy Fosca, and I am baffled, horrified, and delighted.

The Skivvies is a hilarious cabaret group that performs, as you can imagine, in their underwear, and they have guest singers come on, also dressed in lingerie and other underthings. Most of their guest singers are working theatre actors, but sometimes we get Laura Benanti. She was a Skivvies regular for a time, and has a collection of comedic clips you can all enjoy on your own time.

#4: "Vanilla Ice Cream," She Loves Me (2015)

Broadway sopranos pass around roles like hot potatoes. Kelli O'Hara played Amalia Balash in the 2001 concert, and while some members of the cast transferred to Broadway five years later, Kelli was already in The King and I, and since Broadway has like four sopranos of this age that they rotate around, enter Laura Benanti. Though the show and her role was largely overshadowed by a little show called Hamilton that season, the production has a PBS proshot I'd recommend watching.

She Loves Me is yet another adaptation of an early 30s Hungarian play that was also the inspiration for You've Got Mail, so if you've seen that, you know the plot of this. (Side note: Gilded Age's Katie Finneran had a small role as Maureen, the Nanny who runs off with the kids' mother(?) I've never seen it, and that plot wasn't in the musical.)

#5: "So Many People," Saturday Night (2010)

If you thought we were going to get through Laura Benanti without a Sondheim, guess again. While Audra McDonald and Donna Murphy were part of the Ladies in Red, Laura Benanti instead gave us the other oft-sung cabaret number of Saturday Night in the Joanna Gleason dress, only reversed in color. Look it up and you'll see what I mean.

Laura was the last person to perform before the Ladies in Red segment, and thus isn't often remembered. But I remember. (Incidentally, "I Remember" is the song she sang for the Sondheim 90th.)

LINK TO MASTERPOST

[eldritcheden]

so it's totally past my bedtime but I've been watching NCIS again lately and need to go on a ramble so here goes

...not the full rewatch like back to series one and JAG and Kate and such, just from Netflix's catalogue on so like season 10 or something onwards

it was my number 1 obsession in my tweens and early teens but up until now I had seen little to none of the post Ziva era

here's a collection of thoughts:

I used to ship Tiva soooo hard - like I used to use 'Tiva' in usernames! and now I watch them and am just like euuuhhhh idk I feel like Ziva deserves better. In all honesty a lot of my ships (particularly when I was younger) are basically just a reflection of whatever the piece of media 'wanted' me to ship. like it was all just pattern recognition and the autism y'know.

having said that, and while we're on ships. I enjoyed the ride Ellick (apparently that's their ship name?) took me on. honestly as an extension of Ellie's arc in particular. Like there's that episode when she's dating Qasim but the team doesn't know yet and they talk about her compatibility with Reeves vs Torres, and the thing is like they were totally right Ellie and Torres totally weren't compatible at that point in Ellie's character arc. When she joins she's like the most stable 'normal' member of the team, she's maybe even a little naive, she's happily married to a fellow intellectual business-y soft-boy type. Then there's Qasim, still a fellow intellectual still a soft-boy type but much more of a romantic idealistic(?) soul. And throughout her tenure Ellie becomes more and more 'NCIS'- she gets more reckless and badass etc etc etc until the point where she kinda meets nick at his level for their compatibility. Like his character is comparatively relatively unchanged in that time, like he's settled a little bit really it's Ellie that 'matches his freak'. But her arc wasn't finished- she had to keep going and left him behind in her wake. and I dont think i really latched on until Ellie left but Torres is really one of My Guys at this point - like Elliot Spencer of Leverage flavoured guy. Y'know on the outside a bit of a broody (slightly sassy) lone-wolf badass type, super strong protective drive, vulnerable inside and don't believe they're worthy of love... Love that flavour of guy.

Okay that was a long one but I'm not really done with this topic but just think about the potential this holds for the future. I don't know why the actress left the show and that will effect how likely she'd ever be to come back but ugghhhh just imagine.

They run into Ellie on an op. She's undercover and 'working with' the bad guys. To protect both her cover and Torres she shoots him ala Gibbs and McGee in 1mm. THE ANGST. His little heart broken eyes. the tension the conflict. Nom Nom Nom Nom Nom delicious. She becomes one of their reoccurring 'villains' maybe her pic is even up on the most wanted wall. Maybe there's tie-ins with the Tony and Ziva series? Cause like I've seen that speculation and it kinda makes sense but again I need the drama of her being 'in opposition' to our mains. and anyway I need the friends to lovers to enemies to lovers /enemy lovers pipeline for them. The tension they could deliver, both dramatic and sexual, unprecedented. Sign me up.

I'm rambling, this isn't even general thoughts lol it's all Ellick with an honourable mention to Tiva.

Quick actually general thoughts:

They keep setting mcgee up as future director, and have been for a couple of seasons, I wonder if thats gonna come to fruition any time soon

12 yo me really did have a moment when Ziva came back.

Having said that I'm really not a cast purist. (I probably was at 12 tho lol) Like I don't mind people leaving and being replaced, that happens in long running shows and I feel like so far it's gone relatively well. Even Gibbs leaving- like he was iconic but they managed to make his departure seem refreshing rather than.. 'emptying'.. if that makes sense.

I guess I was surprised to find out that LA was cancelled, just cause it was the most solid spinoff they'd had but honestly I hadn't seen that in years either so who knows how it was actually doing.

I think 12 yo me is very excited for the Tony and Ziva spinoff. I just can't quite hear her over current me's excited projecting about future ellie possibilities- there's so much meat on that bone.

Ok. I really don't even know what I'm talking about at this point. Good. Night.

Edit: I remembered another thought. I was honestly low-key surprised that Knight and Jimmy became a thing cause I feel like at first they were kinda setting knights character up to be a lesbian- the way she clocked Marcy, and I feel like there was at least one other moment that I can't think of off the top of my head. I guess she could still be bi, but idk, I feel like I definately clocked a few hints early on that she wasn't into dudes? She and jimmy were a cute plotline though so I'm not gonna knock it

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Writeblr Battle Royale - Ametrine Versus Lyra! (Lyra POV)

Yes! That's right! Round 2 of the event @writeblrbattleroyale put on by @your-absent-father! This time my alien elf Lyra is going up against the ghost-fighting Ametrine (OC that belongs to @moonluringfrost)! And this time she actually does fight! You can read Lyra's round 1 here and Ametrine's round 1 here! Thanks, enjoy, and remember you can follow all the action here OR by following #writeblrbattleroyale !

Follow some awesome fellow authors and watch our OCs beat the shit out of each other (when they behave and do what they're supposed to do instead of things like trying to escape or have a pleasant conversation)

WC: 1,240 Tw: death

“And now the round 1 has ended. Unfortunately for me, some of you players tried to go against me, but I give you the benefit of the doubt. I haven’t introduced myself. People call me M. I don’t know if it’s my real name. I really don’t remember anything. I once was a full person that was cursed to roam the world, without being able to go beyond. I do have two goals I remember: I am the bringer of entertainment, and I am a bringer of death. This place really is the tight combination of both. You are my freak show now that my own freak was taken for me. I just need to make sure now you don’t try to escape.” 

A woman appears in the middle of the arena in clothes that are almost stereotypical of a fortune teller. She’s south American, with a beautiful straight nose and eyes that seem to know everything you deeply want to know. “I am so sorry.” She points at Lyra and the new opponent, and the world shifted.

Flashes of her home. Devastated. Crushed and burnt plant matter, the giant carved pillars now broken and laying at her feet. Someone far away was laughing among the eerie quiet. A flash of dark and Lyra was running. Heading to the laughing. She emerged into the light and blinked. Her home, the island of her parents…it was all gone. Broken. Destroyed.

“Hail the queen!” A voice from beyond sight called.

Bodies began to move under the rubble, and Lyra glanced down. She was wearing the outfit of the highest noble. Queen. The stone fragments of all the clans were embedded into the leather wrapped around her wrist. A mark of what was never supposed to be.

“Queen of all!!” someone called. “Death-bringer!!”

The bodies revealed themselves, and turned to her with faces of shame, fear, anger and hopelessness.

“Queen of Elkien, conqueror and destroyer of the lands!!”

“My fancy little crew here are all my helpers whose soul is in their own little dimension. I won’t mind putting you with my little collection. So, now it’s time for round 2”.

Lyra blinked back into reality standing in an arena, a cold sweat covering every inch of her skin. That…so that wasn’t real, then. It was one of her greatest fears…and it had been brought to her mind by this ‘M’ character.

She wanted to draw an arrow and shoot it directly into the sky, directly to the place where M had been moments ago. But the sounds of people shuffling around, starting to murmur and talk and shout all distracted her. She pinned her ears to her head, giving it a shake. Focused on her opponent.

The sooner she could finish this, the sooner she could get to M and make him pay. For this game of death, for making them participate…for making her live the nightmare that haunted her like a shadow.

She took a breath to steady herself, facing the one opposite her. Pale skin, light hair, blue eyes. Petit build. But she knew enough to know that a size and shape were only minor factors in a fight. She couldn’t afford to take her opponent lightly.

Even so, she did not want to fight if she did not have to.

Taking a deep breath, Lyra called out, “Adversary! I don’t want to fight you. How much do you want to fight me?”

The response came. “Depends on if fighting will get me home faster than not.” The woman began walking towards Lyra, causing her back to stiffen just a bit. She began backing away. Keep the same distance between them. She didn’t know what her opponent could do and didn’t want to find out by letting her get too close.

“I don’t know if fighting will get us home. But I do know it will end with one of us dead.” The woman didn’t seem to change based on words alone, continuing to advance. Lyra let out a breath and fired a warning shot directly into her path, the arrow digging into the ground at her feet. “I don’t want to fight…but I will if I must.”

The woman across from her sighed as Lyra knocked another arrow into place. She seemed tired, and Lyra couldn’t blame her. “I have to try,” she called back. “There’s something I need to do. I’m sorry.”

She reached down and plucked Lyra’s arrow from the ground, keeping it with her as she began advancing faster.

Lyra grit her teeth. “Then I’m sorry as well. Good luck, adversary.”

The woman increased her speed to a near-run, Lyra keeping her arrow tight as she began to back up faster. Lyra tried to track her, but the woman’s evasive movements made for little opening. Eventually Lyra had to lower her arrow and focus on moving, on keeping up the distance and matching her speed to her opponent’s.

This was the best tactic Lyra had at the moment, not wanting to use her earth magic unless it was absolutely needed. The cost was high, and while she’d used it on the last little one it was simply because it seemed an easier way to end the fight than blood. From the way this new opponent moved, she would have to be more careful with her magic…something she was not prepared to do. Not yet.

And her reward was a sudden change in tactic, the woman suddenly changing course and speed, charging directly at Lyra. Lyra moved until her back was against the wall, waited until her opponent was nearly on top of her before stretching out her wings and flying into the air. Feet now against the wall, Lyra kept herself aloft while pushing off.

She looked.

Aimed.

Fired.

She tucked her wings and tucked herself into a ball as she landed, rolling with momentum and getting her feet under her as fast as possible, leaping into a crouch and spinning around to identify where her opponent was.

A body was collapsed by the wall.

Lyra waited for movement as the crowd around her seemed to hold their breath. A few began talking. Whispers among the specters watching. Then…

Cheering.

Lyra risked a glance up at the ones in the stands. A few looked genuinely shocked. A few looked genuinely pleased. Several looked as if they were forced into cheering, like puppets but ones that she could not spot the strings.

Standing, Lyra walked cautiously over to the body. The woman, her adversary, was dead. She rolled the body onto her back, removed the arrow, and closed her eyes, making a gesture that marked blessings for the dead. “I am sorry you did not complete what you needed to do,” she said softly. “But, if you have a next life, I hope you are able to find peace in it.”She stood and turned to face M. Took a deep breath and yelled up, “mxmuzacimo!!!” You are a bag of dicks!! before stalking back to her original spot. He was going to pay for making her – for making them – participate. She wasn’t sure how yet, not as well versed in life and death magic from her home and unsure if it would work in this place. But she was going to make sure she tried if she won her way to the top. And if not? She was going to try before she was taken out.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you do something with the devil and and an angel that ends up being a customer to the bar at the casino bc the job they have in heaven is stressful? Just imagine how awkward that would be at first lol-

"Oh hello, angel! What can I-”

“Ohhh haha, I get--*hic*--it! Cuz you’re a literal angel!”

“What’s an angel like you doin’ here? Couldn’t resist the temptation, eh?”

“Ethan, Rummy..don’t be rude.” Ginette lightly scolded her fellow bartenders, before turning back to you with an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. What’ll it be today, sweetie?”

You just sighed, keeping your wings tucked against your sides as you gazed at the menu for a brief moment. It wasn’t often that you came down to the casino’s bar, but today you especially needed a break from your heavenly duties. Just a small one. Nobody upstairs would even know you stopped in.

"I’ll have the-”

“Well I’ll be damned! An angel in the Devil’s Casino?!!”

Hearing the laughter of a certain devilish king, you looked to see the Devil himself stepping up to the counter, intrigued by your presence.

Most customers would quiver at the sight of him--or easily fall for his deals and promises. But you weren’t deceived by his tricks, nor were you about to jump up and reprimand him for anything. Instead you just politely smiled. “Yep. Is..there a problem?”

He blinked several times, huffing. “Why--no. I...I welcome the residents of all kinds. But..I mean...you’re an angel in a casino.”

“And..?”

“And a casino is, ya know, a place that runs off of temptation and sin? A place that goes against everything the big man upstairs taught you??!” His eye twitched.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You waved him off, turning back to Ginette as you ordered your drink. Even still you could sense the Devil’s yellow gaze lingering on you, so you looked at him again. “Before you ask, I have no interest in gambling.”

“That doesn’t matter! I thought your job was to lead poor souls away from this place. Is there some sort of protest going on?”

“This isn’t exactly a “protest”. And for your information, we angels get different jobs every day.”

“Oh? So what was today’s “job” that was so unbearable that it drove you here, of all places?” Propping his trident against the counter, Devil leaned closer to you with interest.

After getting your drink, you took a sip and sighed in content, savoring the taste. Then you put the glass back down before explaining your assignment to him.

“I had to help the ghosts haunting the second mausoleum find peace. They keep freaking out Grim and he refuses to sleep because of all the noises he hears at night.” You took a slightly bigger swig. “Stupid pink spirits..they just wanna make a mess out of alllll the artifacts. My wings can parry slap them to get their attention, and even then they’re stubborn little fellas. If I don’t meet a certain quota I get in trouble with my superiors. As if I’m the one who put them there...!”

The demon king only stared as you rambled on and on, finally understanding your reasons. He thought that heaven was all about angels frolicking in the clouds, helping souls enter the pearly gates, and blessing children’s dreams...but it turns out it’s a tough job even for you.

So much so it tempted you to come here for a break.

As soon as you finished your rant, a devious grin appeared on his face. “So you say those pesky ghosts won’t leave? Must be such a burden for-”

“No.”

The grin quickly fell. “....you didn’t even let me-”

“I know what you're plotting. I'm immune to your temptations, Lucifer. Your flattery and petulance won’t get you anywhere with me.”

Growling, a bit of fire flashed in his eyes, though he composed himself and collected his trident and a random drink left on the table. “Fine. It was worth a shot...I'll leave you be. Do enjoy your stay here. You’re welcomed back anytime.” He chuckled before finally leaving you alone.

Ginette was only half-listening to the conversation as she cleaned a glass, but she took pity on you for putting up with him. “Nice one. Ya know very few folks get mouthy with the Devil an’ live to tell the tale.”

“Guess I’m lucky then.” You smiled lightly and pushed your nearly-empty glass towards her. “When you get the chance, I’ll have another round."

Yep.

This casino was your sweet retreat.

[stormkobra-5]

Batons and Unicorns

Steven Grant x GN!Mute!Reader

Part 2 || Part 3

Summary: You, a new and shy addition to Avengers Tower, are a mutant with the ability to shift into animals at will: you're Skinchanger. Thing is? You're mute, and much prefer the company of your fellow animals to humans, even the Earth's mightiest heroes, which kind of alienates you. Until you meet Steven Grant, the other new addition to Avengers Tower.

Fluff, cute, silly, a purely ridiculous fanfic involving our boy Steven

A/N: Yeah so I enjoy the fanfics where Avengers Tower still exists and nobody died horrible deaths and endured unnecessary suffering due to a giant purple alien with a thing for jewelry and everyone is hApPy like they deserve. (I do not know if there's actually a Skinchanger in the Marvel universe and I am way too lazy to Google it) .

Notes: My knowledge of DID comes solely from Moon Knight, so if there are any inaccuracies please let me know!

Warnings: Rated 14+. This story involves strong language. Reader is mute due to being extremely shy. Hawkeye is an ass because I really, really do not like Jeremy Renner at all (which means he has no sad MCU backstory to make him more of a jackass in this story), and also? I needed an antagonist.

_____________________________________________________________

So, apparently you're an Avenger now.

You should be celebrating.

Seriously, like go grab a fucking cake and some candles or whatnot and party because wow, somehow you made it into the elites of the elites.

Which just doesn't happen to average people, right?

Yeah, except you aren't average.

Not in the bad way, not at all, I mean you're a freaking badass. The way you casually shifted into an elephant to scare the shit outta those guys holding up the train station? Fucking badass.

Only, you didn't know these dudes were apparently rogue criminal agents ready to set off a chemical weapon. You didn't know that Iron Man would bust through a window to grab the bomb that you'd accidentally knocked into a grate, which you then collected with your trunk. And you really didn't expect to accidentally save Ant-Man's life. How were you supposed to know you were stepping between him and a speeding bullet that was only a superfluous injury to your badass elephant self?

'Course, the Avengers didn't know you were a person. They thought you were an escaped elephant from the Central Park Zoo or something. Nah, you're just a wanderer setting out from (your hometown) on a journey of self-discovery. Right place, right time.

You were also broke as hell and lost as fuck, but nobody's keeping track, right?

Ah, whatever. Somehow you bagged the greatest job in the universe.

Iron Man himself (against the judgment of like, everybody, but whatever, he's Tony Stark so he can do whatever the fuck he wants) recruited you when you turned back to your normal human self. "Wanna be a hero, kid?"

Sure, you'd nodded. You're mute, which was easily explained when you started communicating in sign language and kind Captain Rogers translated for you.

Although, honestly? You hate people. Who doesn't nowadays? Even the heroes you really didn't wanna be around. But, you took the job. Pays well, gets you college, and gives you a pretty damn good reputation while you're at it.

Not to mention.

Not to mention.

You are now, personally, in the midst of heroes. Gods, even. On your first day moved in with nothing but your little bag of luggage you meet Thor himself. And Loki. Did I mention Loki. Although with the whole New Asgard thing in Norway, they're not really at Avengers Tower much thank whatever, because it's kind of nerve-wracking, being in the presence of gods? Not to mention Loki. You were there for the Loki-pocalypse taking over Tumblr when he reformed. You witnessed all the hype and fanfics and millions of people across the globe drooling over this man.

You may have been one of them.

Just saying. That might be why it was kinda hard to look him in the eye. Not that you read hardcore smut or anything (or did you...? I don't know you. That's none of my business.), but still. The guy is like ten feet tall and dark and handsome with his features sharp enough to cut through fucking diamond.

Geez, you're glad he's off to New Asgard.

So, you move in. Mr. Stark (as you've been told to call him, by him) takes you to a mandatory introduction to the whole of the Avengers crew.

Boy.

There a lot of them.

There's like three Peters, five Steves, and each guy or gal has a specific superpower. And backstory. And twenty pages of why you should not under any circumstances fuck with any of them of previous missions and accomplishments that make you feel like your elephant-heroic-ness is falling far short of the Avengers title.

Then you move in.

Mr. Stark gives you a spacious apartment on the living floor, in the midst of everybody else's apartments that few of them actually use. Thankfully you are set far back. You get a crappy nice view of the congested cluster fuck of cars and smog-covered city of New York through a big-ass window, a gigantic bed, a generous bathroom, and the man even buys you clothes. Congrats! You've officially been adopted by Tony Stark! Way to go!

Your mentor? Thank god it's a robot. You're given a set of martial arts lessons and must copy them, occasionally fighting some drones. You do this in the evening, after school to get your... whatever degree.

Thankfully, you see very little of the heroes. They're off doing hero stuff or whatever. You see them at the compound dinner (although there is a kitchenette in your personal apartment like everybody else's so you can have your own private dinner if you want), sometimes, never all of them at once. The only ones that actually live there are Scott Lang, Natasha Romanoff, Thor and Loki part-time, Bruce Banner, and Peter Parker part-time. The Guardians of the Galaxy use it as a recharge station when they come to Earth.

And Mr. Stark, duh.

When you do see them, they try to make polite one-sided conversation with you because only a few of them know sign language, like Mr. Rogers and Parker. But you don't talking to people because they're like??? just no??? don't talk??? to you??? Like you wanna go about your own business.

Peacefully.

Privately.

And then you come home from school one day to find the apartment next to yours fucking open, like???

Open??? Like??? Somebody's moving in???

Whom the fuck, you might think, like a very proper-speaking person.

Whom the fuck indeed.

Milling around in front is Nick motherfucking Fury, who you only met once upon your arrival. Next to him is Mr. Stark himself, using a dolly to wheel in a pile of boxes full of books.

Books.

BOOKS.

Man do you love books. Like your whole apartment is full of books from floor-to-ceiling of your own and from your local library. BOOKS GALORE.

"Well, Stevie--" Mr. Stark tries to say, but he's interrupted.

"Ste-ven. With a V." Says a very British voice in response, soft and quiet, though also impatient. Exasperated. Like he's said this a billion times.

"Sorry," Mr. Stark replies nonchalantly, "Steven. Marc. Jake. Welcome to Avengers Tower."

You kind of linger behind Fury and Stark, who haven't noticed you yet, peering into the room. There's a large fish tank with a single beautiful goldfish, and shelves and shelves of what will probably hold books, because all the boxes in the room have books. Old books. New books. Big, small, medium, tiny, books everywhere.

This Steven/Marc/Jake guy might be a good neighbor to have. Like maybe you might befriend him to get access to this little personal library of his? Maybe???

The poor guy, though, looks extremely tired. He has dark bags under his dark eyes and his inky black hair is unkempt. Poor guy looks like he hasn't slept this millennium. Dudebro, you ok?

"Am I a prisoner?" Steven questions.

"No," Fury replies sincerely, "You're a guest. Marc joined the Avengers Initiative for you and Jake both, and so now you're based here. You're free to leave, after you've completed your training."

Steven seems surprised. "B-but I'm already the Avatar of Khonshu..."

Khonshu? As in the crazy moon god from Egyptian mythology?

That's right my dude. Dudette. Person. Whatever. You do your research. You're a fucking nerd and you have nothing to be ashamed of.

Or you're not.

Either way. You know who Khonshu is.

Realization hits you. This must be fucking Moon Knight.

You'd heard of the guy since you moved into the tower. The vigilante who protects those who walk at night or some cool shit like that. He wears white so the bad guys see him coming. He's fucking brutal. And part of all that Egyptian stuff. He's apparently crazy or something.

Yet the stories you've heard of the guy who beats people to shit using moon-shaped boomerangs and sheer brute force and Egyptian curses or whatnot does not match the sweet guy standing before you.

Fury acknowledges Moon Knight's question with a noncommittal shrug. "It's protocol. Even Thor and Loki were trained for Earth-based threats. Just following procedure."

Steven only nods. In defeat. You feel bad for him.

Of course, now Mr. Stark sees you.

"Oh! Y/N! Hey!"

Mr. Stark's always been nice to you.

That doesn't mean you like human interaction.

You freeze like a deer in headlights as all attention turns onto you.

Respectfully, fuck you, Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark reaches over and grabs your shoulder, nudging you forward. You hold your books to your chest in sheer terror.

"Guys," Mr. Stark says to Steven, although there's only one dude in the room, "Say hi to your neighbor. This is Y/N. Y/N, meet..." He turns to Steven for confirmation. "Steven, right?"

Steven nods, shy, looking up at you from under his brow with a faint, tense smile. He gives a little wave. "Hello." He looks just as terrified as you are.

You give a stiff nod. Mr. Stark goes on to introduce the... other people in the room. Of which you see none. But Mr. Stark gestures to a frightened Steven. "He's also Marc Spector and Jake Lockley. He has something called Dissociative Identity Disorder. Means he's not just Steven Grant all the time. Figured you should know, so you don't treat him like he's crazy when somebody else is fronting."

Huh. Sounds like Mr. Stark has done his research, too. Steven seems to be gauging your reaction, but you're only nodding in understanding. The planet has been invaded by fucking aliens.

Numerous times.

You can handle a dude who is simply just not one dude. Mr. Stark may be snarky, but he's always trying to make sure everyone feels welcome and at home, which is why he then turns to Steven to tell him about you. "And bro-- bros, sorry-- if they don't talk, they're not ignoring you. They're mute. They can speak in American Sign Language, though. They're also really, really shy so they take awhile to warm up to new people. Still hasn't really warmed up to us yet, so."

Steven's eyes keep flicking to you as Mr. Stark is talking, and then Mr. Stark pats your back in acknowledgement, turning to the doorway to confirm that Fury is already gone. "So, I'll leave you to get unpacked. I've got stuff to do. Compound dinner is at 6:00 pm sharp, but you're free to have dinner in your own apartment if you want. Hence your own kitchen."

"Thanks," Steven mutters, but you only nod as Mr. Stark leaves.

The two of you stand there awkwardly for a second before Steven comes forward to shake your hand, which you do stiffly. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

Nice to meet you too, you reply in ASL (which is awkward with your books), but Steven doesn't know it. He furrows his brow, looking honestly ashamed. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know sign language..."

You nod. Seems like that and charades are the extent of how you two can communicate. Is that gonna stop you from helping out the fellow introvert who is also a badass god-avatar and also Marc Spector and Jake Lockley? Nah.

You hold up a finger. Hang on. You rush into your apartment and set your books and backpack down before returning to find Steven in exactly the same place and pose as you had left him. You tap the top of a box, your chest, and gesture to the room. Steven looks around and follows your signals, puzzling it out.

Then the poor guy seems confused. "I'm sorry, do you want to help me unpack?" It sounds like nobody has offered to help him with anything in his life.

Know how you feel, my dude.

You nod, eagerly. Steven is clearly flustered. "Oh, no no no, you don't have to do that. I wouldn't want to trouble you."

You can't tell if he doesn't want your help because he doesn't like you, is a bad introvert like you (you don't know where your sudden bravery is coming from), or seriously thinks that you don't want to. You tilt your head a bit, thinking. Then you come forward and take his hand, which he reluctantly allows you to do. You spell out on the back of his hand, I want to help. That OK?

Steven seems to think for a second. Or maybe he's listening to Marc and Jake say something. Then he smiles, and it's the warmest smile you've ever seen. "Yeah. That's ok. You wanna start with that stack over there?"

And that, reader, is the start of something wonderful.

Although it's slow.

For the next couple of days you help Steven unpack. In the middle of day two, after lunch, you come back to find not Steven, but Marc, the American ex-marine mercenary who really fucking intimidates you. He's not mean, he's just... like you feel like you should call him sir and stand at attention because this dude is badass and not shy and is more quiet than even Steven, but in a brooding kind of way.

You don't meet Jake yet, but the next day Steven is back, and he's sweeter than ever. The way Steven and Marc talk about each other is like brothers-- with Marc being the older brother, of course.

Steven is extremely slow in warming up to you over the next few weeks, like you are to him. Like sometimes he'll start excitedly rambling about the Ennead and you'll listen with interest before he'll abruptly stop himself, thinking he's been talking too much. You urge him to go on.

Because it's really fricking interesting.

Also, he's so nice and sweet that you can't help but warm up to him a little quicker than you would to others. Those memes, where two introverts meet and they just click? Yeah, it's kind of like that. Your arms get tired from how much you're talking through ASL (which he's learning fairly quickly) and your face hurts from smiling. You never knew unpacking and making a friend could be so much fun.

Although the two of you are still a little... conservative. You don't talk about yourselves much. You wonder if he'll think your power is stupid, instead of bending time or being super, so even though you sometimes think it would be easier to put books on top shelves if you were a small giraffe, you don't shift. Steven doesn't seem to keen to summon his suit around you, either, asking the subject to be changed when you bring it up.

Three days after his arrival, Steven starts his training. Since he's obviously not in college, his takes place earlier in the day, but when you come over he's quiet, reserved, and looks like somebody just dragged him through the dirt. Which is odd, because for Mr. Knight/Moon Knight, he should kick ass.

It's on a Saturday when you figure out why.

So you know how everybody's been nice to you? Yeah.

Not Barton.

He's a fucking asshole.

Not just to you, to everybody but Natasha, who's kind of like his sister. But he tries to beat up his opponents in the training rings brutally. Including you. You've gone bison on his ass before just to get him to back off.

Although today, nobody sees you from your position perched calmly on a railing in sparrow-form, because sometimes you just need to hide and chill, y'know? What better place than the obvious?

But when Steven-- because it's clearly Steven, Marc walks differently-- comes in with his bag for training, looking like he's scared to death of what's lurking about, you immediately perk up, waiting.

Steven pulls a little mirror out of his pocket, huffing. "No, Marc. I'm not gonna let you take over. You'll bloody kill him. Besides, it's Saturday. Right? It is Saturday? ...I thought so. He's not gonna come here on a Saturday, is he? I can do it."

Steven shrugs and puts the mirror back in his pocket.

You've seen the mirror conversations before. Of course, you can't see Marc or Jake, but Steven can. The first time it happened he was scared he'd freaked you out, but you'd only shrugged and told him to say hi to Marc for you.

You watch, intrigued, as Steven goes to the robot and starts to input the code to access his lessons. The far door opens and he freezes, turning around to find Barton entering. He starts to gather up his things and make to bolt out of there. The fuck? You scared of Barton?

"Bollocks."

"Grant," Barton greets loudly, spreading his arms in a challenge. He has a disgustingly smug grin on his face, and you can take a guess that he's probably been successful in bullying Steven, who wouldn't hurt a fly even if it were a ten-foot-long one threatening his life. "Where you goin', buddy? Don't you wanna practice?"

"I, erm," Steven is backing toward the door. "I've decided to do it later, actually." Dude. Let Marc front and cream this guy. Very few people take Barton's shit, but one of them is Peter Parker, who you've occasionally defended by turning into a falcon and dive-bombing Barton until he leaves him alone.

Well. If he's not gonna let Marc front.

You swoop down, behind Steven, as Barton grabs him by the collar of his shirt and starts to drag him toward the fighting ring. Then, before you can do anything--

Steven just fucking-- suddenly he's in a tux. Like, a bright, white, glowing-eyes tux. Blink, puff, Steven is fucking brighter than a goddamn lightbulb. He yanks Barton off of him, twists his arm, and kicks him so hard he goes flying across the room.

You watch with big bird heart eyes because.

Wow.

You've never seen either of his suits. He's fucking amazing. "You want to get planted again? Back off, Barton." Steven threatens as Barton struggles to his feet. For a second, you're scared he's gonna go for his bow, but then Steven whips out a couple of batons from his goddamn sleeves and takes up a fighting stance that you're more than certain Marc taught him. "Go ahead! Try it! I dare you!"

You think Barton just might, and Steven doesn't deserve to stand alone. You flutter up to Steven with a couple of chirps and land right on his shoulder. Steven flinches, confused by the presence of a random bird, but Barton knows exactly what's happening. He glares, knowing what forms you can take: you could be Godzilla if you really wanted, but for only like a minute, tops.

Not that you'd actually seriously hurt him.

But when you were a bison you may have jabbed him in the ass with your horn.

Maybe.

With a huff of frustration, Barton mumbles something unintelligible and storms away, clutching where Steven kicked him. Slowly, Steven flips his batons and they disappear. You take flight, hovering and fluttering around his face with a series of excited chirps. Steven watches you with his glowing white eyes in total shock for a second before holding up his hand for you to land on, which you do. If birds could blush and have heart eyes, you would be doing both as you stare up at him in awe.

You can see Steven smile under the mask. "Hello, little birdie. Where'd you come from? Are you lost?"

Then you do something a bird would never do. You write, hello badass on his gloved palm with a bird-ish smile of squished-up cheeks and sparkling eyes.

Steven chuckles in disbelief. "Y/N?! That's your power?! You can turn into birds?!"

You take flight, and he keeps his hand under you with a smile in case you fall. When you land, you're a human again, and you're beaming. So is he. "Don't know why we never showed each other our powers before. We could team up! You could be..." He thinks, and you let him. You haven't seen him this excited yet, and it's endearing. He's like a kid. "Ah! Starbird! Mr. Knight and Starbird!"

I can turn into any animal, You sign, laughing, From any time or realm. I'm Skinchanger.

Steven smiles even wider under his mask. "But we can still team up! I'll switch my training to the evenings so we can do it together. I'm sure Marc and Jake won't mind."

The fact that he wants to train with you has you grinning from ear-to-ear. But then he seems to realize something. "...Can you... Can you turn into mythical creatures? Like dragons?"

Why of fucking course, you reply, because what good would turning into animals be if you couldn't be the most badass one to ever exist? But you don't do that, because last time you did you almost set fire to a whole forest. Instead, you shift into something more magical and pleasant.

A white unicorn, because you can do whatever the fuck you want and no one can stop you.

Steven busts out laughing. You've never heard it, and you lean closer with a whinny of question. Is he laughing at you? No, not Steven. He's too sweet. "Why did you pose like that?!"

Then you're laughing, in a very horse-y way, because you did pose. You just hadn't thought it would be that funny. Steven pats your cheek, grinning. "You're beautiful, birdie."

Butterflies swirl in your belly, because Steven just gave you a nickname.

And called you beautiful.

"Give me a ride back to my flat?"

You strike the pose again, making him laugh. Of course you'll give him a ride. Once he's up on you're back, you purposefully trot by the main living area even though it's out of the way. Yes, Mr. Knight is riding a unicorn. And everybody sees it. Banner even takes off his glasses to wipe them off, a little more than confused.

When you get back to his apartment, Steven is in his regular clothes and you're human. You both plop onto his couch in fits of laughter, harder than you've laughed in years, making jokes about the reactions of the other heroes as they watched you go by.

Slowly, you come to a realization.

You, my friend, might be falling for the sweetest guy on Earth.

You can't help yourself.

You do something unexpected.

Unprecedented.

"Steven," You say, and he freezes. He goes still like somebody just slapped him hard. He sits there for a second, and you realize he might be trying to figure out if that was one of his alters. "Steven," You say again. Your voice is hoarse, and it hurts. But it's the first word you've said in a very long time.

Steven looks at you in disbelief, jaw slack and eyes wide. "Y/N... Did you just--"

"Steven!" You repeat, beaming.

Slowly, Steven grins. You might see tears in his eyes because a mute person cares about him enough to start speaking for him. "Y-you just said my name," He breathes, gripping your shoulders tight.

"Steven!" You confirm, and throw your arms around his neck to engulf him in a tight bear hug, laughing.

Steven doesn't think he's ever smiled harder in his life.

Yes, reader, this is the start of something wonderful indeed.

____

Thanks for reading! We all need a random silly, fluffy fic once in awhile, right?

[voregeoise]

A Hunger (prototype)

Happy vore day my fellow freaks(affectionate)! I made this for ya! It started off as just experimenting with tropes I hadn't messed with before.There should be another tale out today that's far less angsty. In the meantime, enjoy this longer tale!

(Posting this draft rn, just ignore that last part)

His name was Vall. He was a Vulcanite.

Compared to his human roommate he was an odd being. Tall, two sets of arms, a pair of antennae and golden eyes. The majority of his body was almost always cloaked by wing-like extremities that were covered in a dense layer of white fur, leaving only his head with its grey keratin shell poking out the top. They were thought to once have been used to scare predators away and look less threatening on the fly. To extend them to reveal multiple limbs and appear larger. Or keep them closed to look more amiable to friends and allies. His kind were also intelligent. It was their knowledge and technological prowess that took them and humans to the local moons of their world so quickly.

But most interesting of all was their ability to halt most bodily processes. They could stop beating their heart for up to five minutes, hold their breath for almost an hour, stop digestion at a moment's notice and halt most brain activity for several minutes. It's assumed these powers evolved to avoid detection from predators thousands of years ago, and simply stuck around even after they stopped being useful.

His human roommate was a nice fellow. He was a private man, he kept to himself, sometimes to his detriment. But he liked him. He was the only person he really connected with, he was nervous around other people. He was a very close friend. A little under six feet tall, tiny compared to him who stood just over fourteen feet tall. He worked at the same job as him, at an aerospace engineering firm. They had met years ago. And now shared they a home together. Their lives were good. Everything was fine, that was until he started having episodes.

He was sleeping when it first happened. He was awoken by an agonizing, gnawing hunger. It felt like had had been starved for weeks. He had eaten only a few hours ago. Why did he feel so hungry? It hurt terribly. He winced and groaned in agony. He tried not to cry, but the pain made in difficult to keep himself together. Thankfully this racket managed to wake his friend.

"Are you okay?"

"No! Fuck, that hurts. I need you to get me something to eat. Grab as much as you can hold and bring it to me!"

"What do you want?"

"I don't care damnit! I said to get me something to eat! Grab any-"

His yelling was cut off by him collapsing to the ground from a sudden intensification of the pain. He clutched his middle, writhing in agony. He heard his roommate run downstairs to the kitchen. A minute later he heard the door open and in walked his friend with as much food as he could carry. He picked himself up and made a beeline strait for him.

He snatched it out of his hands and scarfed it down. In only a minute or two he ate enough food to last him a few days. He didn't even chew. He couldn't wait that long, he needed to pain gone now.

When he finished eating he collected himself. What just happened? Why was he so hungry? What was wrong with him? He turned to his friend, he had a shocked look on his face. There was an awkward silence before either spoke.

"A-Are you okay?"

"No?"

"What happened?"

"I don't know! I just felt like I was starving."

"What do we do?"

"I-I think we should go to the hospital."

A speedy trip to the doctor gave few answers. They figured out that he wasn't actually starving, his brain just thought he was. They had no answer for why this happened, the only idea that they had was that it may have been a mental breakdown. But that didn't make sense, he was mentally well, happy and wasn't stressed. But that was their only idea. They didn't know what possibly could have happened. They could only hope it was one off.

It wasn't.

-------

Two months later it happened again. He was sprawled out on the couch a few feet from his friend. He was scrolling through social media when suddenly it struck. A stabbing pain, far, far worse then last time. It felt like hell. Thankfully his friend knew what was happening. Just like last time he ran to go grab something for him to eat. And just like last time he scarfed it down in only a minute. But it wasn't enough, he still felt like he was starving. The food barely numbed the pain enough for him to get up and run to the fridge himself. His roommate looked on in horror as he tore through everything in there.

--------

It was late. And they were out of food. They had had guests over last night. His roommate was supposed to go to the store but everything was closed. He'd go in the morning. But there was a little nervousness between them. It had been two months since the last episode. They were on borrowed time, but they only had to make it through the night. Surely they would be fine, right? What were the odds that an episode started tonight? Well, worryingly likely. They weren't sure he could make it through the night if one struck tonight. They just had to hope. But luck wasn't on their side tonight.

They were so close too. It struck early in the day, the sun wasn't even up yet. An agonized scream woke them up. They both instantly knew what was happening.

"Oh, oh no. Vall, there's nothing for you. It'll be thirty minutes until the stores open and it'll take another thirty minutes until I can bring your food home. Can you last an hour?"

"A-An hour?! I-I can't do that! There's got to be something! Anything!"

"We both know that there's no food. I can get you some painkillers if you think that might help."

Painkillers helped, but they didn't fix it. It was like putting a band-aid on a broken bone. He sat there for a few minutes, groaning in pain. Every second that passed he became more and more desperate. There had to be something! He could eat the houseplants, maybe he could take some food from the neighbors or he could eat hi-

He stopped that thought before it could finish. He could never. Eat him? He'd never do that, no matter how much it hurt. He wasn't a meal, he was a friend! How could he even dare think such a thing! That was too far.

A sudden increase in pain forced him to reconsider, or at least think about it.

Well, maybe he could? He'd be fine, right? He was probably big enough to get him down without hurting him. He wouldn't digest, he could stop his digestion process at will! He didn't need to digest him! His brain was lying to him! He just needed to eat something, anything. To hold him over until the stores opened and he could get some real food. Get something in his stomach. But to eat him?! He couldn't! He wouldn't!

But he was just so, so, hungry. He had to eat. He couldn't wait an hour. He wasn't sure if he could wait another minute. But did that really mean eating his best friend alive? He knew he shouldn't, but the agony in his middle was a good argument that maybe it wasn't the worst idea.

He turned to him, he was pacing the room. Just looking at him he felt hungrier. He looked so, appetizing. No, he tried to force those thoughts out of his mind. What was wrong with him? He felt shame flow through him, before it was drowned out by pain. He had to eat something. But this? Could he really bring himself to eat his friend? He'd known him for years, he was his only real friend! Could he really treat him like a meal? His conflictions were silenced by a gruesome agony. He had to, to make the pain go away.

He stood, it hurt worse then he could imagine. His friend seemed shocked that he could even bring himself to stand.

"Vall? What are you doing?"

He stepped towards him. He felt tears welling in his eyes. He didn't want to this, b-but it wouldn't hurt him right? H-He'd be f-fine in there. He slowly parted his cloak revealing two of his arms. He reached out for him and grabbed his shoulders.

"V-Vall? You're scaring me... What are you doing?"

"I-I'm so sorry about this."

"VALL?! What do you mean?!"

He lifted him until they were eye to eye. Was he really about to do this? I-It wasn't too late to put him down. A stabbing sensation in his stomach prevented him from stopping, he had to make the pain go away. He fully parted his cloak revealing his second set of arms. Fully stretched out his cloak reached end to end of the room. He looked almost angelic, but to his friend he must have looked like a demon to his friend. He reached out and grabbed his legs to stop him from struggling.

He could see the fear on his face, he felt terrible. B-But he wasn't in any danger! It'd only be a little while in there!

"W-What are you going to do?"

"Im just so hungry. P-please forgive me."

His friend who seemed so much smaller then usual stared him up and down, until his eyes went wide with shock as he realized what was about to happen to him.

"WAIT!! Vall no! Put me down, please! I can figure something out! I promise! Just please don't hurt me!"

"I-I'm not going to hurt you! You'll be fine! I-I promise! I'-Im just s-so hungry. Just p-please don't fight it!"

"Vall wai-"

He cut him off by shoving his head in his mouth. He could taste him, to his starved mind he was delicious. He never thought he would think that. He could feel him struggling, but he was no match for his size and strength. He pushed him further into his mouth and swallowed. He could feel his head lodged in his throat. He franticly tried to quickly gulp him down. He tilted his head into the air, slamming his friends legs into the ceiling. With his shoulders firmly pushed into his throat he was practically choking. He needed to get him down quick. He felt as more and more of him was crammed inside of him. He could hear him shouting something but couldn't make it out, he was too focused on his meal. Only a few seconds later the only part of his friend still outside of him was the tips of his feet, and in one more gulp, he was gone. Almost as quickly as it had started he was gone. Completely within him. He gasped for air. He took a few breaths and retracted his cloak once more. He let out a belch. He felt so full. But despite that, from the outside you would never guess what had just happened. His friend was entirely hidden by his cloak. The hunger was gone now, completely sated, he felt calm. For a moment that is.

Only a few seconds later the weight of his actions came crashing down on him. Had... had he really just done that?! Did he just eat his friend?! No... no, no! This had to be a dream of some kind! He was in denial, and he knew it. He felt movement inside him. As the weight of that feeling hit him, erything seemed to lose color, it felt like time was slowing around him. The intense feeling of shame, regret, disgust washed over him. He had just eaten him, alive. That thought rang through his head. What started as the slight sting in his eye quickly changed to complete sobbing. He was a monster! Why had he done this?! How could he?! He was a danger to the people around him! He didn't know what to do as those thoughts swirled violently through out his mind. He felt completely alone. Until he heard his friend speak.

"V-Vall? A-Am I going to be okay?"

"Y-Yes." He squeaked out between sobs.

"Why? Why did you do this? Why?!"

"I-I... I just... I-I.."

He felt him kick, the pain almost knocked him to the ground.

"Answer me Vall! Why did you do this?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!"

"P-please don't s-struggle."

"I'm going to struggle you freak! What the fuck Vall?! Spit me out!"

"I-I will.. Just p-please stop, i-it hurts when you kick."

He felt another kick. It knocked the wind out of him for a moment.

"I fucking hope it does! I was going to help you! And you pull this shit?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!"

He had no answer. He deserved the pain of his kicking and struggling. He just collapsed to the floor and started sobbing harder. He just wanted to shrivel up and die. Years of friendship and trust destroyed, all because he couldn't wait. Every time he felt him squirm or kick or struggle in there his demands for answers rang through his head louder and louder. He felt like a monster. He only wanted to say one thing.

"I-I'm so sorry."

He curreled up and tried to cloak his head too. He wanted to be hidden away from the world, so nobody else would know the horror that became of him. So he couldn't hurt anyone else. He laid there form a few minutes, crying to himself, regretting everything he had ever done. He barely even realized that his friend wasn't struggling anymore. He heard him speak up again, softer this time.

"Vall? It's okay. I'm sorry too."

"W-What do you mean? Why are you sorry? I did this!"

"Me screaming at you is only making you worse. Just, take your time to calm down, it's okay, I forgive you."

"Y-You... f-forgive.... me?"

"I do. You'd never hurt me. I trust that you did this for a reason."

He couldn't belive it. After everything he had done, he still forgave him. He could hear his friend's voice shake, he was still a little scared but he seemed to truly believe that he was safe. His mind seemed to calm a little, maybe they could work this out. He tried to collect himself, but it hard. It took a while to just get to a state where he wouldn't break down if he even thought about what he had done. Maybe now he could talk to his friend.

"A-Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine, if a little cramped."

"Let's t-try and get you out."

"No, not yet, I have questions."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to know why. Why did you do this?"

He felt tears sting in his eyes once more, but he had to keep himself together, he owed him answers.

"I couldn't wait that long. It hurt, so, so much. I didn't want to do this, I just couldn't take the pain. I knew you be okay, you were never in danger, I just needed something, anything to hold me over until the stores opened."

"Well is it working?"

"Yes, it is." He responded shamefully.

"How long until the stores open?"

"Twenty minutes, but you won't have to be there that long, I'll get you out now, I can deal with the pain."

"No Vall, you can't. Well be right back at square one."

"What do you mean?"

"You clearly cannot deal with the pain."

"Well what's other option?"

"I could wait here for a while?"

"W-What?"

"I could stay here for bit, for you."

"W-Why would you want that?"

"It's not that bad in here, I don't mind staying here for some time if it means you aren't in so much pain."

"A-Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, why don't you try and relax in bed?"

Maybe he was right. Maybe he should just try and relax. They'd both been through a lot in only a few minutes. He picked himself up off the ground with some difficulty. It was a little challenging to maintain his balance, with the hundred and fifty pounds of extra weight in his abdomen. He made sure to carefully lower himself on to his bed, as to not disturb his friend. When he eventually laid back down he finally was able to fully relax, and only then could he really take in the sensations he was feeling.

He could make out every movement, squirm or shift his friend made. It was a strange feeling. But without the fear and regret from before, he almost, enjoyed it? It tickled a little. But it a good way. Like a soothing massage. He could feel his friends breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest. He could feel the warmth of his friends body heat, it made him feel sort of cozy. He curiously pulled his cloak back to see where his friend was stored. It didn't look all that much different then normal, maybe a minor bulge on his belly but that was it. His friend was almost completely buried under so much him. He was so hidden, yet so close. Only a thin layer of flesh away was him. He hovered his hand over it, an intense desire to feel him. But something held him back for moment, nervousness perhaps? It didn't stop him for long, he gently touched his middle, and to his surprise he felt him touch back. He felt so close to him in that moment. Emotionally and physically.

He wondered what it was like for him, to be in his stomach. It couldn't hurt to ask, right?

"What's it like in there?"

"Blue, your stomach is a deep blue."

"It is?"

"So was your maw."

He look at the mirror in the room and opened his mouth. He was right, it was a deep rich blue. He had never really thought about it that much. It never really struck him as something notable, all members of his species had blue maws. But now, it was a comforting thought to know his friend surrounded by such a nice color.

"I ment, what's it feel like?"

"It's sort of soft and not too small."

"I thought you said it was cramped?"

"It's tight, but not in a bad way."

"Cozy?"

"l-l uh, wouldnt say that. Oh and wet, it is very wet in here."

"Is that bad?"

"Not really, I'm soaked but, I don't really mind. But I am going to need a towel once I'm out of here."

"I can get you that when you're out."

"Thank you."

--------

The sun was up, it had been up for a few hours now. The stores had open a long time ago, but neither of them brought it up, he wondered why he hadn't spoken up yet, but he didn't mind, he enjoyed him being in there. But they couldn't sit here forever, they eventually had to get something for him to really eat. Eventually his roommate floated the question.

"So, how about we think about getting you something to really eat."

"Do you want to run out to the store?"

"It'll still take a while to get there, grab the food and get it back to you. I think you should get it."

"What? I should go out, IN PUBLIC, with you in there? Are you serious?"

"Am I really that noticeable? Am I not hidden by your cloak?"

He did have a point, he looked no different then usual from the outside. But to go out and interact with people, in this state. He was terrible with people normally, he couldn't imagine trying to talk to someone with another, living, breathing being inside of him. Just thinking about it made him nervous. But he really didn't want to deal with the pain a second longer than he had to.

"No" he begrudgingly admitted.

"You can get your food, come home, spit me out and eat some real food."

"But what if somebody asks why I'm walking funny? What if somebody notices the little bulge when I'm holding things?"

"Just.... say you had a good meal or something, I highly doubt anyone will immediately assume you ate somebody."

"You do have a point."

"See? You'll only be out for half an hour. If for whatever reason somebody finds out, you can pin all the blame on me."

He felt calmer, maybe he could. Maybe he could go out and get his food like this.

A few minutes later he was waiting at a bus stop. There was a few more people waiting too. All humans, his kind were vastly out numbered by humans. There was about a hundred humans for every Vulcanite. He stood out. He tried his best to keep his cool. Nobody seemed to notice his anxious behavior. Only a few minutes later the bus arrived. He ducked his head as he stepped on. While modern infrastructure was designed for both humans and Vulcanites, but it was hard to make everything suitable for such large beings.

He wondered if he should sit down or stand on the bus, if he sat it would draw less attention but it would be uncomfortable for his friend, but, if he stood people might notice his.... meal. No, he was over thinking this. Nobody would notice if he stood.

Ten minutes later he ducked his head once more as he stepped of the bus. He was here. When he walked about. He made sure to grab twice the food he'd normally get. He knew that he would eat a lot once they got home, so he should make sure they had more food after he was done. He was shocked to see that no one took notice of him. Well not entirely, he occasionally got a few curious looks from people who didn't see Vulcanites much. He didn't mind though. He understood that humans were very curious beings.

When he grabbed everything he'd need he made his way to the check out. He recognized one of the cashiers. Anne. She was one of the guests they'd had over just yesterday. He looked down at his stomach. The ones that had eaten the last of their food, the ones that had driven him to eat his friend. He didn't mind. He was almost glad that they had run out of food. It had led him to this unique experience.

He made his way over to her and put his groceries next to her.

"Oh! Vall it's you!"

"Y-yeah, it's me."

"Sorry for eating the last of your food."

He awkwardly chuckled.

"It's alright, no harm done."

"Thank you, say where's your roommate? I usually see him here, never you."

He panicked to think of an excuse. She'd be surprised to realise he was here too.

"Oh! He's... he's uh... working today! They're having issues at Helios! They needed him."

She seemed to notice his stuttering language. But she didn't push it.

"Okay... If you say so."

He quickly picked up his food and left. Even though it was minor, the exchange between him and Anne left his heart pounding, his brain had already run through all the ways he could slip up. But he made it. He walked home carrying well over a dozen large bags of food. It was a little hard to hold so much in all four hands and keep his middle hidden. But he managed.

---------

He opened to door and placed the bags on the kitchen table. He prepared himself to spit his friend out and immediately scarf down the food he had bought. No wait, he should grab a towel for his friend. He walked back downstairs and tosses the towel on the table, only then did he notice that he hadn't heard or felt his friend since he left the house. He prodded at his stomach.

"Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh... yeah I'm fine. I just fell asleep."

"Asleep?"

"Yeah? I fell asleep. Is that an issue?"

"No, it's just, a little surprising to hear that you actually fell asleep in there. It it actually that comfortable?"

"Oh, it's, umm, alright I guess, it's not uncomfortable. Nevermind it, did you get your food?"

"Yeah, nobody noticed. I also saw Anne. She asked where you were."

"Well what did you say?"

"I told her that Helios needed you."

"Did she buy it?"

"Not entirely. She definitely knew something was up but she didn't ask. Anyway, are you ready to come out?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Alright, just give me a moment."

It was at that moment he realized something. How does he make himself vomit? Could he just.... push him back up? He lodged all of his hands under the slight bulge in his middle, and pushed. It made him feel sick. But that was good. After a bit he felt him be forced back up into his throat. He felt him reach his arm up until he felt it pop back into his mouth. He quickly used two his hands to reach into his maw and grab him. It was tough to keep his grip, his hand was covered in drool. But he managed to hold on and pull him out. He felt him be dragged out of him until he was holding him in the air. He was a mess, utterly soaked in saliva. He gently put him back on the ground and handed him the towel. Only then did the hunger come back. He immediately started devouring the food around him. Only a few minutes later he felt full. He took a few deep breaths. The episode was over. Finally. He turned to his friend. He didn't seem to mind the view of his gluttony. He was too busy cleaning himself off.

---------

The sun was gone now. The unusual day they'd had was still on both of their mind. But neither showed it. They hadn't talked about it, all day. The were getting ready to go to bed. His roommate was watching a documentary on his phone in bed. And he was sat at his desk, next to the mirror, reading a novel. He heard his roommate speak.

"Are we not going to talk about what happened today?"

"Why? Is there something you want to say?"

"Well..."

He saw a look of nervousness on his face. Almost like he regretted asking. What was on his mind? Did he... enjoy his time? He assumed he might have enjoyed it. Perhaps he was a little embarrassed to admit it.

"Did you like it in there?"

"N-no!" He snapped back.

He smiled, that was it. He turned to him.

"Did you enjoy it? It's fine if you did."

"I..."

He seemed reluctant to admit it. He knew it would a little odd to say you enjoyed you're time in somebody's stomach. He didn't mind, he had enjoyed it too.

"You did, didn't you. I don't mind, I liked it too."

"Well..."

"Are you not going to admit it?"

"Maybe a bit..."

Ha! He had his answer. But there still seemed to be something on his mind. He knew him, he wouldn't admit something like this without a little... "encouragement" He had an idea. Maybe he could push him a little, it might get him to admit whatever was bothering him.

"Awww, are you upset you had to leave?"

"N-no!"

"Don't worry, you can tell me."

"....a little...."

He got up out of the chair and walk towards him. He had an idea that he might like.

"Say... Maybe you could help me during episodes, hold me over for a while, like today?"

He showed a toothy smile to signal what he was implying. He saw his friend squirm a little.

"I-If you w-want to..."

"Both of us know you want to, that's what bugging you, just admit you want to get eaten again."

"Fine. I had a good time. I wouldnt mind helping you through episodes by doing... that."

He reached out and ruffled his hair.

"Good to hear."

He walked back to his bed, and laid down. He looked at his friend, laying in bed, trying to continue his documentary. But he could see him turning to look at him every now and then. He quickly turned his head back to his phone when he noticed him staring at him. He felt a smile cover his face. He almost looked forward to the next episode. He rolled over to face the wall. He thought about the way he had teased his friend. It was oddly... fun? Just to playfully mess with him a little. He had never really done something like that. He normally didn't have enough confidence to talk like that, but after today, he felt a little more sure of himself.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[chronicbeans]

I just finished watching SnapCube's fandub of The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog and the freaking ENDING, where Alfred shows up to voice Eggman was a real treat, lol. Tbh, their fandubs and the horror side of the Sonic fandom (like Sonic.EXE and a few other stories), and The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog are the only thing keeping me in the Sonic fandom at this point.

Also, spoilers for The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog:

The train's a freaking platonic yandere for the Conductor and I love it, lol.

Okay, jokes aside, I really like that they touched upon toxic friendships at the end, even if it was in an April Fool's game. Like, for an April Fool's game, it was surprisingly well made and thought out. A lot of Sonic games, as well as games intended for children in general, emphasize friendship as an important part of life, but never really touch much on the toxic side of it. I don't know if Sonic has touched on it before (as I said, I am hanging on by a thread when it comes to the Sonic fandom) but it was very nice to see it brought up. They even foreshadowed the twist with the train in the beginning by bringing up how the Conductor had a long history with it, having him treat it like an old friend, and bringing up all the amazing things that the train could do. Which, well, a normal train wouldn't be advanced enough to do half the things this train does. It still has enough reasonable doubt by the fact that, well, it's Sonic! Advanced technology would be perfectly plausible in the Sonic universe!

The art was also very pretty, too! I love the little designs they gave the characters so much! Character design in general makes me a happy little fella, and each of their costumes has so much character to them! Even the Conductor, too. When I first started watching, I though for sure that the Conductor would be a twist villain, due to the shadows over his eyes. It gave him a slight "I am a shady fellow due to my mysterious look", as well as a cliche "shadows over eyes are a villain thing" vibe. However, after learning that he wasn't a twist villain, whenever I look back on it, the shadows kinda give off a more "weary and tired" look. It shows how the years of working on the train has worn him out and he is ready to leave his old friend and retire.

While I would personally have trouble playing it due to the ring collecting parts giving me a headache from just watching it, it is still a treat to just watch others play it and see the story pan out. I usually watch people play games, anyways, so I guess I am just more used to enjoying media vicariously through others, lol. I much prefer to theorize and psychoanalyze than to play the games myself.

Anyways sorry for my short rant I was just made very happy by the stream and the game itself, lol. I love to overanalyze media, knowing full well that there was probably not as much thought put into it as I am thinking about it. You know? It's fun to me.